Nothing but Time
by gammara
Summary: New chapters! Parts 12 and 13 -- The lives of T'Pol and Archer intersect from E2. ENDING
1. Life on Enterprise

Nothing but Time Part One: Life on Enterprise Chapter 1 

A ten-year old boy with blond hair and a ridge covering his forehead and nose bolted down the hall, chasing a sixteen-year old boy with pointed ears. The older one came to an abrupt halt, as the younger one nearly collided into him.

Disturbed from her mediation, T'Pol stepped out of her quarters to watch the two momentarily. Her hazel eyes were surrounded by a few indiscernible wrinkles and shimmered with something akin to amusement. Tucking a medium-length strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, she stared at the boys.

"Lorian, Henry," she said. "What have I told you about this type of play?"

The younger one stuck out his lower lip and confessed.

"You said we shouldn't, Mrs. Tucker," said Henry.

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "That's correct."

"I apologize, mother," said Lorian.

As if to excuse his actions, Henry said, "But, Lorian was in Dad's stuff." He pointed an accusatory finger at the pointy-eared kid.

A man in his late-fifties meandered down the hall and interrupted the scene. Age had worn heavily on him – his hair was nearly completely gray and his eyes had grown weary. The man glanced at T'Pol and then focused his attention on the two mischief-makers.

"What's going on?" Archer asked.

Lorian and Henry straightened, and nervously eyed each other.

"They were running in the hall," T'Pol said. And then clarified, "Again."

Trying to appear stern, the captain furrowed his brow. "Listen, boys, there's a lot of expensive equipment near this junction, and T'Pol and I don't want you to get hurt."

"So, is your concern for the expensive equipment or our safety?" Lorian asked in a slight drawl.

Archer smiled. "Uhm, I guess both. I want to make sure _both_ Enterprise and you stick around for a while."

"Dad, Lorian's been reading your logs again," Henry said. The blond boy crossed his arms defiantly as if to defend himself.

"Oh?" Archer asked.

Henry's hand finger pointed at the Vulcan. "He retrieved them without your permission."

Archer stifled a laugh. His logs were no state secret; they were available for anyone to review, but obviously Henry felt he needed to warn his dad. Lorian had the best qualities of his dearest friends. The kid had Trip's genius with computers and engineering equipment, as well as the man's dangerous curiosity, which were balanced with T'Pol's methodical, wise, scientific and brilliant mind.

"Henry, these logs are open to everyone," Archer said, ruffling his boy's hair. "As long as you don't view or listen to my personal logs …."

Proudly the boy spoke up, "Thank you, sir."

Archer gave a wink and was about to walk away, when Lorian continued. "Captain, after listening to your recordings, I have some suggestions. I would like to have a word with you when it's convenient."

Bold. The captain wondered where that boldness came from. A chuckle nearly worked its way to his lips when he turned around and rewarded the young man with a serious nod.

"I'll meet you in my Ready Room today at 1800."

T'Pol nearly frowned, "Jonathan, you don't need to …."

The captain grinned and said, "Don't worry, T'Pol. I've always welcomed suggestions from the Tucker family."

He gave a purring laugh and was about to turn around, when his science officer interrupted him.

"Not _always_," she corrected.

Archer gave a snort and mumbled to them, "Maybe not always." And with that, he walked down the hall.

As worn boots clapped against the deck plating, he questioned whether T'Pol had known he'd always valued her opinion. In truth, he'd always valued _her_. But, maybe she was right – in the past he hadn't welcomed some of the things she had to say, especially in the expanse. After all, he had to do whatever it took.

Whatever it takes.

The words rang in his ears, haunting him. When he and his crew had vowed to save Earth roughly 16 years ago, he'd thought of only one thing: the mission … _his_ mission. When it had proven impossible to complete, he'd fallen into a guilty cycle of researching and regretting every decision he'd ever made. The thought of not fulfilling his quest, possibly allowing Earth to be destroyed, had torn at his insides and rattled his brain. Rather than turn to his friends, he'd continued to shut them and everyone else out. In hindsight, he'd pushed Trip and T'Pol together by being emotionally and mentally unavailable to both of them. It was a mistake … and one of his decisions that bugged him most of all.

However, things had turned out well for the Tuckers. Trip had proposed to T'Pol in front of the entire crew after movie night, they'd married, and she'd given birth to Lorian. The summation of all the events had at least given Archer the impetus to move on. He'd, for the most part, agreed that Enterprise was never getting home and accepted he'd never be able stop the weapon. His crew had already formed a new life, it was time for him to do so as well.

Overall, he'd been lucky. One day, he'd spotted a ship in an anomaly field and had met a beautiful pilot with a ridge running down her nose and a mane of golden hair. She'd asked him to dinner aboard her ship and before the night was out she'd made the excuse to go back to her cabin, confessed her attraction, nipped at his mouth and wiggled out of her clothes. Archer'd been astounded. He'd been captain so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to be a man … to be considered handsome and virile. And maybe that's what he'd liked most about her. That, and she made him forget.

Marrying her had given him a renewed sense of purpose. He had a new mission: captain, husband and astronomer. Soon father had been added to those responsibilities. And he had taken that role just as seriously and mirthfully as he had his other duties. In fact, in a way, he'd treated all the children born aboard his vessel as his kids. Travis' children, Hoshi's, Phlox's … they'd all been a handful and all special. He'd known they were the future of Enterprise and Earth – their descendents would be the ones who would stop the Xindi weapon from attacking in the first place.

But, tragedy never had been far away; Archer'd eventually lost his wife in childbirth while unsuccessfully attempting to deliver their third child. Raising two children hadn't been difficult – they were great kids, but he'd missed her. He'd enjoyed not just being a captain, a father to everyone; he'd gotten used to being a man every now again. When he'd slip into his cabin after a long day on the Bridge, and after his children – Henry and Elyssa – had gone to sleep, his wife had always lured him into her world by stealing kisses and vowing love.

Esilia.

A few weeks after her death, he'd realized his feelings for T'Pol had never completely vanished and that thought had sparked guilt. It still did.

At least he could become lost in his parental duties, the astronomical data collected and his crew's needs.

He made his way around the bend, entered his Ready Room and continued working.

Chapter 2 

An adolescent hand rang the button to a closed door. Lorian was nervous about talking to the captain; he'd always been a little on edge when speaking with the man. It was a combination of admiration and fear. He knew him to be kind and gentle, but also stern and abrupt.

_Lorian's first encounter with the stern and abrupt man, had been a shock to his system. Before that day, he'd only been sweet and caring. _

_He remembered entering the gym to shadow box, as he had seen his Uncle Malcolm do on numerous occasions. After performing this feat, he migrated to the large machines, the ones his parents had asked him not to touch. Maybe that'd been the problem – warning the boy not to touch things was daring him to do so; he'd always been curious. With no one around, his 5-year old hands reached around the treadmill as he tried to start the device. It immediately hummed to life, throwing the boy to the ground with a hard smack, knocking a tooth out and sending a spray of green blood down his little shirt. _

_Captain Archer rushed over, witnessing the boy fall down. After picking the little guy up, he spoke in harsh tones, rather than coo. _

_"You could've done a lot worse than knock your tooth out, Lorian," Archer said, walking briskly down the halls. _

_Lorian looked up, as the man's eyes remained focused ahead. He was angry and maybe worried. _

_"I'm thorry," he said, his tongue unable to work against the newly found gap in his mouth. _

_"I know your parents have asked you not to touch those things. Why would you do something so stupid?" _

_"I was … curiouth," he said. _

_And then Lorian saw a tenderness come over, which in retrospect, was most likely amusement at the way the last word was spoken. _

_More softly, Archer said, "I just don't want to see anything bad happen to you. Maybe next time you're … curious … you can ask an adult to help you." _

"Come in," Archer said, waking the boy from his daydream.

Lorian strode in and hovered near the door, his hands almost militaristically behind his back and his chest puffed out.

The captain couldn't help but grin. "Have a seat."

"No, thank you," he said. "Sir, I know you're time is valuable. I'll get directly to the point."

Archer leaned over his desk with interest, giving a bemused smile. "Sometimes I forget your only 16 … you have a way of sounding 30 …."

He gave a raised eyebrow. "I understand Earth will be in danger in approximately 100 years."

Stunned, Archer stared at the boy. "Yes."

"I presume our mission is to destroy the first Xindi probe?" he asked.

Archer nodded. "Yes. But, Lorian, you shouldn't really worry about this. A boy your age should be playing games."

"Vulcans don't enjoy games. Besides, my father told me a lot about Earth. In fact, he spoke fondly of Florida."

"Your father grew up there," Archer said.

"He told me. I take it, his family home and town were destroyed … at least will be?"

"Yes," said Archer. "Unless we're able to stop it."

"In your logs, you indicated that we can't travel forward in time."

"That's right. Your mother determined we can't," Archer whispered.

"Perhaps we can make friends with the Xindi?" Lorian asked. "Show them we're a peaceful people so that they don't attack us."

"Your mother and I have discussed this. She feels it may negatively alter the timeline. We meet the Xindi for the first time after the attack."

"My mother isn't always right," Lorian said. A trace of a frown littered his face.

Archer's eyebrows climbed onto his forehead. "No. She isn't always right, but she's right more often than not. And, being her son, you should show her more respect."

Lorian's lip fattened.

Archer climbed out from behind his desk and sat on the edge of it. With a hushed whisper he said, "I know you miss your father."

Lorian eyed the man. It had been two years, but the pain was still there – the emotion. The boy had an overwhelming love for his dad. Trip was the gentle parent, and his mother was the disciplinarian. Countless times, his father would tickle his stomach, sing softly in his ear before bed, tell wild tales to make him crack a smile and generally love him so much that he had the courage to tackle all of life's problems with confidence and zeal.

Archer decided to speak. "When my father died, I was devastated. It's not something you ever really get over, Lorian. I think your mom is trying to do the best she can, but … she can't really take his place. No one can."

The boy bit back a few tears and stared down at the ground. Archer hesitantly moved toward him and gazed down. Suddenly, Lorian felt Archer's hands on his shoulders as he'd seen the man do to his mother countless times before.

"Everyone misses him. He was one of my best friends."

The Vulcan broke the captain's hold, trying to stifle his emotions. The last thing he wanted to do was be a burden … actually, the last thing he wanted to do was cry, and at this rate, he was likely to do so.

"Thank you, sir," he said, awkwardly.

Archer sighed and allowed the boy to back away. "Your father had many friends on Enterprise. You have a lot of people to turn to who care about you. Maybe if you don't feel comfortable talking to me, you can talk with Malcolm."

Lorian stared ahead, looking at the porthole behind the captain, confessing something that came too easily to the surface.

Archer frowned. "I know it hurts. It's okay to honor your human side occasionally."

"Mother has encouraged me to accept his death. But, she doesn't understand …." The Vulcan turned his head toward the ground and tried to breath deeply, a trick he'd used to stymie unwanted emotions. After a few seconds, Archer broke the silence.

"Why don't you have dinner with us tonight? I know Henry looks up to you. And, you haven't finished telling me your thoughts about speaking with the Xindi."

Archer wrapped an arm around Lorian. Bringing the kid into the crook of his armpit, he headed down the hall.

The boy gave a slight smile. "Dinner tonight? Could you ask my mother, she's more apt to say yes to you."

"Maybe we can invite her too," he answered. "I'd love to see her. It's been a while since the Tuckers and the Archers had dinner together."

By the way he responded, Lorian got the distinct impression he indeed would _love_ to have her over. He shook the thought from his head and decided it was his need to protect his father's memory that made that thought drift to the surface. After all, the two families were friends, and had been for years. His parents were the godparents of Henry and Elyssa and had been entrusted with caring for Archer's children on various occasions. The man even officiated his parents wedding.

'It's nothing,' he told himself, allowing the captain to continue down the hall with his arm around him.

Chapter 3 

Archer and his children cleared away dishes as T'Pol and the boy remained seated.

'Fifteen,' Lorian thought to himself.

During dinner, Lorian made it a point to count the number of lingering glances Archer held with his mother. Actually, the captain would look at her and continue gazing after she had already diverted her attention elsewhere. Even though Lorian was only half human, he knew this wasn't normal behavior between humans, who he'd studied and analyzed all his life.

The boy dug into his memory and realized something that startled him – something he should've noticed much earlier. The captain had looked at his first officer, holding his eyes on her that way, for years. In fact, Lorian had always assumed it was the nature of their relationship, but realized perhaps it was the nature of an unresolved relationship.

The Vulcan thought back on how his own father regarded his mother – he held the same stares, but more with a satisfied smile. That contentment may've come from a number of things, but probably because his feelings had always been returned. It also had a self-satisfaction to it, as if he was pleased to have her so completely to himself. The recollection gave the boy some comfort.

But, Archer? The look he'd given her tonight, and for years, was one of anguish. Lorian had seen many of Archer's expressions – irritation, concern, authority, confidence, impatience, curiosity, friendship and then this one. He knew the difference between them.

For example, when his eyes fell on his old communications officer, it was always a fatherly-like concern for the woman. He had a soft spot for her, but it was one of a doting parent or older sibling. His voice reinforced that notion. Another prime example would be the way Archer looked on his father. The captain held many things twinkling in his eyes – esteem, friendship, bemusement and a brotherly-like love. The soft punches to the arm, gentle rumble of his laugh and lopsided smile that seemed transfixed when his father entered the room was unmistakable and pleasing. It was obvious Archer cared for his dad quite a bit, maybe more so than possibly anyone aboard … anyone except his mother. When the captain saw her, Lorian could tell there were many conflicting emotions – concern, friendship, curiosity and a deep affection that tightened his lip and set ablaze a small fire in his eyes. It wasn't just his eyes. His voice softened and became husky. And, he'd listen to her more than anyone … even his father; she could tell the man he was wrong and he'd be likely to listen and accept it. The captain was brusque and abrasive with his staff when they disagreed, except her.

And, it seemed that had always been the case.

Lorian was young enough not to understand the command structure and asked his father for more information over a late night visit to the Mess Hall for some pecan pie.

_"Why is mother the second in command, and not you?" Lorian asked, sweetly. _

_Trip guffawed, "Well, she's got more experience, being older and all." He gave his son a wink and a large grin. _

_When his father was playful, the boy couldn't help but grin back. But, he was determined to have a serious answer. _

_"Captain Archer trusts and values your opinion, doesn't he?" _

_Losing some of his merriment, his father's face straightened. "That's true, but your mom has a way of getting through to him. Always has." _

"Lorian, perhaps we should leave," T'Pol said, stirring him from his musings.

"The kids _do_ have school tomorrow," Archer added.

T'Pol gathered herself up and sauntered out of the room with Lorian following only slightly behind. As much as Archer seemed to view his mother with devotion and husband-like concern, she seemed wholly uninterested or unaware of his feelings. Well, maybe not wholly.

T'Pol said, "The captain indicated you disagreed with some of his decisions."

Lorian would've given his father a smile at the comment, but restrained himself for the Vulcan. She undoubtedly wouldn't approve of an open emotional display. Instead, he decided to nod weakly.

"I think it best you don't question the captain," she said.

Lorian raised an eyebrow. "You do, why can't I?"

"That's different. I'm his first officer. You're a very intelligent, inquisitive, intriguing boy, but a boy nonetheless. You can't understand the thought processes behind decisions he's had to make; hindsight never completely provides a clear picture of the past."

He gave a small frown as the two reached their cabin.

"You don't understand me. You never have," he said.

T'Pol sighed deeply. "I just want you to stop bothering him. He's a busy man."

The boy stared at his mother and furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you protecting him because he's your captain, or because you know he's in love with you?"

She gave him virtually the same expression – furrowing her eyebrows back. "I'm his _friend_. I cherish you, Lorian. My concerns regarding his time and the protection of decisions he's already made are as first officer. Nothing more."

"Are you completely unaware, or do you just refuse to accept it."

"It's best to leave this matter alone."

"You don't think I'm right."

She remained quiet.

Tired of being treated as a boy, he decided to end the conversation by changing for bed and going to sleep. Maybe in the night, he'd find evidence and prove his theory was correct. Maybe then she'd start taking him seriously.


	2. Confession is Good for the Soul

Editor's notes: Thanks very much for the lovely comments from you guys! Many thanks to Mana for beta-ing this! Thanks to Monica for looking through it and giving her opinion on it.

**Nothing but Time **

**Part two: Confession is Good for the Soul? **

**Chapter 4**

Archer watched Lorian and T'Pol scuttle back to their abode and hung his head against his chest. Although the boy was smarter than he, in many ways he reminded him of himself at about that age. Trip's death wore heavily on Lorian – he hadn't been the same since the accident. Actually, T'Pol hadn't been the same either, but she avoided talking about it much. Too bad. Confession, dealing with problems and talking them through, was good for the soul.

After helping with baths, reading stories and giving kisses, he tucked Henry and Elyssa into bed. He trudged into his own room, slipped into his nightclothes and stared in the dark at the ceiling, wondering how many years it'd been since Esilia had died. Was it four or five now? Must be five. Seemed like longer and just yesterday.

Closing his eyes, he remembered the way she nibbled on the back of his neck and earlobes. It was a strange thing to recall, but pleasing. The ridges that covered the bridge of her nose leaned into him, and like a fine-toothed comb tickled him where the tiny hairs at the base of his head and neck met. Squirming, he'd nearly always blurt out a boyish chortle. And then, her arms would drape around him and she'd laugh.

'Five years,' he thought with a sigh.

During and after the funeral, he didn't cry – he couldn't. His children, unlike most, understood the permanency of the situation and wailed uncontrollably at the wake, after it and for days on end, especially his daughter, despite her young age. Archer decided the best thing he could do was to be there for them. With drive and determination, he mustered up the fortress-like strength he'd used in the expanse to provide comfort and to care for his children. It was important to him they didn't see him cry, and that they knew everything would be okay.

Shoving out and locking away his emotions, he carried on his duties as father and captain flawlessly (at least he thought so), until T'Pol came to see him that one day.

He was able to conjure that memory in agonizing detail.

_Archer'd been putting in more hours, hiding himself away in his Ready Room, focusing on information that needed focusing, reviewing scientific scans and the like when a buzzer rang overhead. Before he could accept or reject an intrusion, T'Pol walked in and hovered over his desk. _

_"Captain, may I speak with you about a personal matter?" _

_"Something wrong with Henry and Elyssa?" he asked with urgency. _

_She and Trip had agreed to watch his kids, as they'd done so many times in the past few weeks, as he poured over data from a nebulae they passed recently. _

_Understanding his question was that of a concerned parent, she said, "No." _

_Relieved, he offered her a seat, wondering what was so important it couldn't wait until their shift tomorrow morning. She declined the offer, shifted her weight between both feet and twitched her lips. _

_"You've seemed sullen lately," she said quickly. _

_"I feel fine," he said. An unconvincing smile, meant to influence her, worked its way onto his face. _

_From the severity of her features, he gathered she didn't buy it. _

_"The one year anniversary of Esilia's death is today," she commented. _

_"Oh? Huh. I'd forgotten." _

_Watching her continue to stare at him, he raised his eyebrows. "I'm fine." _

_"I'm not certain you are. You've been spending more hours than usual at work the past few weeks." _

_"I've been reviewing the scans of the class 7 nebulae …." _

_"Captain, we have plenty of time to examine data. I think you're avoiding something." _

_"Don't be silly." _

_She admonished him with a single raised eyebrow as he sighed. He thought this was about keeping an eye on his children so often lately. _

_"Look, I appreciate you watching my kids. If it's been a problem for you …," he said. _

_"I don't mind, I enjoy them immensely," she said. "I'm concerned about __**you**__." _

_"You don't need to be." _

_"As I said, you've been sullen lately." _

_"I'm okay." _

_Taking a deep breath, she said, "Jonathan, you've been carrying on for the past year as if the woman you married never existed." _

_"What?" _

_"Your children are distraught. Elyssa doesn't understand. Perhaps if you shared your … feelings with them …." _

_His face dove into his hand. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. After all, he was their father, caretaker, guardian and protector – he'd know if something was amiss with his own kids. They'd shared their feelings with him, and he'd hugged, loved and kissed away their pain. He'd even noticed their tears had ended and smiles had popped back onto their faces again. Everything was just fine. _

_"Henry claims you don't like to talk about Esilia." _

_"You don't know what you're talking about." _

_T'Pol said, "It's important to acknowledge your feelings. Your children need to know you cared for their mother …." _

_Defensively he stood up. "I don't have to drone on about her or go into hysterics to prove I loved her, do I?" _

_"Of course not, but you haven't mentioned her name possibly since her death, at least to me. You've been working longer hours, socializing less … these things seem to indicate you haven't completely … recovered." _

_Irritation bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. Everything was fine. Why couldn't she let this go? _

_"You should understand and accept your feelings of loss, grief and pain …." _

_Exhaling sharply, he said, "I'm okay! How many times do I have to tell you that to convince you? No one knows better than I that I miss her. You think I like going home to an empty room?" _

_She didn't respond to the rhetorical question, but seemed to examine the comment. _

_"There I admitted it. I miss her." _

_She remained silent and still. _

_"You happy? Sometimes I feel as lonely as I did …," he said, ending the conversation abruptly. _

_She waited for him to complete the sentence, staring at him. _

_"All right, fine. I miss her, T'Pol," he said. "But, I don't appreciate you …." _

_"I'm only trying to be your friend," she interrupted. _

_He gazed into her eyes. Friend? She'd been more, but she'd never know it. Maybe some of what she was saying was right; he'd locked away his heart for a year letting emotions roll off of him, denying all the things she said. _

_Esilia didn't just want Archer to make decisions or deliver orders, she was passionate about him … and he missed that. He missed her sense of humor – the way she was able to laugh in his face when he was hell bent on acting like an ass, the way she smiled, the fact she never closed the cap on the toothpaste, never hung up her own washcloth, stuffed her dirty clothes into piles and the way she stroked Henry's hair when he came down with a slight fever. He'd loved her as much as one man could. She was a distraction, a companion and a friend. But, she was gone. _

_Maybe he felt guilty that she'd died in childbirth. It was just like her to give up her life to do something for him, and he wished to God that he worshipped the ground that she walked on for her sacrifice. But, frankly, he was angry that she'd kept that information from him. _

_Angry? He was furious. Apparently she'd known for some time, ever since she'd found out about the pregnancy, that it would be difficult. Humans and Ikarrans had compatible DNA, but Henry had been a complete fluke. Neither had any intention of being a parent when he'd been conceived. _

_Elyssa had been carefully planned. For their daughter, Esilia had taken vitamins, her temperature and everything she could, to boost the chances of becoming pregnant. And she did. But, the delivery had been difficult. The baby had caused a lot of internal damage and Phlox declared Elyssa would be the last child they'd have. Archer, glad his wife was okay, had been happy with two – a boy and a girl. But, Ikarrans had large families, and as soon as she was able to, she had begun planning, secretly, to have another. _

_When Archer had found out about their third child, he was scared, much more so than she. But, her gentle spirit and the way her eyes had filled with wonder at the news, had a way of convincing … deluding him everything was okay. It was in her last semester (Ikarrans gave birth after only 7 months) that Esilia had become ill. _

_One night, she'd awakened him with screams of labor pains. They'd been blood curdling and desperate. Archer'd scooped his wife into his arms and rushed her to Sickbay. Within a few minutes of reaching the medical facility, Phlox had broken the news. _

_"I'm sorry … she's gone." _

_Gone. It had sounded so simple –- like she'd walked out of Sickbay; it had taken a few moments for the finality of the situation to hit him. _

_"The baby?" he whispered. _

_Phlox closed his eyes and shook his head. The physician had said a few more words and shown him his wife's body, but Archer had entered a fog. After working through some of the minor details, leaving major decisions for later, he'd numbly wandered the corridors to his home. _

_As gently as possible, he'd told his children something he'd never dreamed he'd say. _

_"Henry, Elyssa, your mother …," he whispered, hoarsely. "She's not coming home." _

_His five-year old son had run into his arms and began to cry immediately and soon his daughter joined in. _

_While comforting his children he'd realized instead of feeling sad, he'd felt angry. She'd abandoned him with two kids to raise. And damn her – she'd always been the more tender and loving parent – kissing injuries, blowing on burns, judging drawing contests, tickling stomachs and tearing up when Henry lost his first tooth. (Ikarrans didn't lose teeth, she'd assumed the boy had a dreaded disease.) And he'd hated that he thought about the comfort she gave him. Dinner had typically begun with him fussing over details about work, and had ended with her laughing at his seriousness and smothering his lips with hers. He'd always counted on her finger to smooth away the crease between his eyebrows. _

_Archer snapped back into the moment, noticing T'Pol watching him curiously, waiting with her Vulcan patience for him to speak first. _

_"My friend?" he asked. _

_"Of course," she reassured. _

_"I don't need a friend!" he sniped. Springing to his feet, he began tapping them against the deck plating pacing, around her. _

_Unhappy that didn't spark a reaction from her, he continued. "You don't know what's it like!" _

_"No, I don't," she agreed. _

_"That's right." _

_She remained motionless. _

_"I'm fine!" _

_She nodded, without really nodding at all. _

_"Just leave me alone!" _

_She stood her ground, unblinking. _

_Angry she hadn't made a step toward the door, he towered over her. "I said leave me alone!" _

_As if her shoes were glued to the floor, she remained. _

_In a bout of rage he threw the PADD against the wall and shouted again. "Why won't you leave me alone?! I'm fine!!" _

_Then, like boy who's ended a temper tantrum, he began to shake and tears not only formed in his tear ducts, they spilled down his cheeks – gushing from his eyes. He sobbed deeply and leaned roughly again his desk, burying his face in his hand, embarrassed he'd let a wave of emotion overtake him. _

_And then suddenly, he felt a hand wrap around his forearm. The gesture oddly enough gave him permission to weep with more ferocity. He shook, choking outbursts into the air and felt something he thought in all his days he'd never imagine – T'Pol drew him into a hug. _

_"I'm sorry," she whispered. _

_He let himself be cradled and dropped his head wearily onto her shoulder as he continued to blindly sob. _

The saddest thing about that incident was: T'Pol assumed he was bemoaning his wife's passing, and most of him was, but a miniscule part of him was weeping because being in her arms felt so exquisite – like something he'd been wanting for years. During that moment, he'd almost wished he could've produce more sobs to feel her heartbeat against his and her breath on his neck just a little longer. And the longer she'd held him, the harder it was to stifle the idea of kissing her … embracing her in gratitude for welcoming his tears and easing his pain, kissing her in lust for the year of comfort he'd missed from his spouse and … gazing at her in love.

Strange that the first time he'd been in her arms was to relieve his suffering over a deceased wife. Ironic, really.

Even now, he conjured up T'Pol's scent and let it ruminate in his nostrils – sandalwood, ylang-ylang and myrrh … maybe a touch of vanilla. He tried not to imagine that smell under the sheets with him, curling up next to him.

Nearing sleep, he wondered whether he should erase his personal logs – just in case. Going to a metallic box for confessional was a hell of a lot easier than telling someone, especially Phlox, and made him feel better. At least, he'd convinced himself that was the case.

**Chapter 5 **

Archer heard faint whispers darting around his bed followed by giggling. Elyssa and Henry had performed every possible test to wake their father and were probably up to no good. As his eyes finally opened, he heard squeals of delight from his daughter as she hugged his neck.

"Good morning, Daddy!" she yelped.

Being a father meant never really having a day off, despite having a day off. He grabbed her to him and growled playfully, kissing her nose.

Henry, eager to get more attention began to speak. "Dad! I got the fifth level of Zaknor where I killed the …."

The information about the child's game washed over him, but he knew the proper response. Archer squinted his eyes at his boy and grinned.

"Oh, really?" he asked.

As both children fought for his attention, he jumped out of bed and stalked after his kids making loud monster noises. The two giggled and scampered through the quarters, egging him on.

A beeping broke their merriment as Archer answered the door in his pajamas.

T'Pol greeted him with a peaked eyebrow, her eyes focused on the quarters behind him. The children, who'd been up long before him, had already done their best to destroy the place while having space battles and acting out their favorite parts of books and poems read to them by their father.

Archer looked behind him, taking in his messy quarters and weakly stated, "Kids."

"I don't suppose Lorian stayed here?" she asked, coming right to the point.

Archer raised his eyebrows with alarm. "No."

"I've been looking for him for a while. I'm sorry to bother you …."

She turned her head away and he gripped her shoulders as he'd done so many times before. Reassuring her was part of his job, a part of his job he liked.

"We'll find him," he said.

"I asked Malcolm to disable any shuttles from leaving, as well as the transporter for the time being."

He ran his hand along her arm and gave a 'we'll find him wink.' "Let's go."

Archer barely had enough time to turn to his son as he said, "Don't worry, Dad. We'll wait here."

T'Pol and Archer, still dressed in his pajamas, began looking around the corridors. Jon was about to ask the security team, when idea struck him – the Jeffries tubes. Lorian was scrawny enough to barely fit and would undoubtedly head there if he wanted to be alone. It wasn't restricted access, but needed an entry code which he gathered some of the older children knew.

"The Jeffries tubes," he said and proceeded to run down the hall.

As the two walked down the hall, Archer stopped in his tracks. His own voice echoed quietly in the tube itself.

_"It doesn't seem right. I've known Trip for more years than I can remember, but … I love her. I've accepted she chose him, but he's gone. And, I doubt I'll ever feel differently." _

Archer recognized his personal log taken a few months ago and nervously glanced at T'Pol. Certain she hadn't worked out what the information was or how much significance it had, he carried on as if it didn't exist. With a deep sigh, Archer stuck his head in the tube, studying Lorian.

"You wanna come out?" Archer asked.

"Maybe you can explain this first," Lorian replied.

"Your mom has been worried sick about you," Archer said.

"I think you owe both of us an explanation, _Captain_," Lorian insisted.

Archer frowned. "Later."

The boy was about to contradict him, when he narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils – a sure sign of anger.

"Come out," Archer said more sternly, hoping to scare him a little.

Lorian squirmed out of the tube and stared his elder down as T'Pol raised an eyebrow.

"See, Mother, he's in love with you," said the boy, stupidly.

At the accusation, Archer's feet instantly became interesting and he shifted his weight as though his uniform itched.

"In fact, going through his logs, he'd been in love with you for some time, possibly even during his marriage," Lorian said.

Archer interrupted, "That's not true."

"You were eager to have my father gone. That's why you ordered him to be on that shuttle …."

"I didn't order him," Archer said. "You know I'd never hurt your father. He asked to …"

"This man, our _captain_, has wanted to take Dad's place for years – before you were married," accused Lorian. His finger was pointed at Archer in much the same manner his father's would've had he been alive.

"I don't want to take Trip's place," he said, looking at Lorian and then eying T'Pol.

Patiently weighing in her mind the appropriate response and course of action, she spoke.

"Captain Archer asked you _not_ to read or listen to his personal logs." She crossed over to her son, unsure whether to hug him because she was relieved to see him again, or scold him for doing precisely what the captain had asked him not to do and confronting him about it. Deciding neither was appropriate, she rested one hand on his head and smoothed his hair.

Lorian continued to glower at Archer, waiting for the man to excuse his behavior or deny it. To the boy's surprise he did neither, instead, he worriedly looked on – both at Lorian and T'Pol.

"You should go back to our quarters and wait for me," T'Pol said.

The Vulcan hung his head against his chest and agreed. "Yes, ma'am."

As the boy wandered back to his cabin, T'Pol decided to apologize. "The boy is too curious for his own good."

"Sounds kinda like Trip," Archer joked.

"Not just Trip," T'Pol said, thinking humans, including Archer, were overly curious.

"I guess not. Listen," Archer began. "That log was a made a while ago …."

She tried to peer into his eyes, but he seemed determined to avoid them. Just searching his face she could tell it wasn't that long ago. In fact, the deeper rumble in his voice – the timbre change that came with age – indicated it was made recently. More damning, the recording indicated Trip had already passed away; it had to have been made within the past two years.

He avoided her stare and chose a spot on the wall to focus on, knowing she wouldn't buy his lame excuses. Instead he let her judge him and figure it out on her own, and there was little doubt in his mind she would.

"Perhaps we should discuss this later," she suggested.

His eyes finally met hers. "Perhaps."

With that, she headed down the hall and back to her quarters to talk with her son.

TBC


	3. The Ties that Bind

**Author's note: **Thanks for your feedback; it's been fun and interesting to read! I personally think most relationships are complex and complicated; there are always layers to them. For those who indicated they agree with Lorian's assessment of Archer (and how Esilia was an ego stroke), I can certainly understand that. In a way she was. And those who think "Lorian is just like his father," good or bad, I can certainly understand that. I hope through out this story, all of the characters become more complex and continue to have layers heaved on them. And, I hope I treat all the characters fairly.

And, in the end, the characters become real or 2-dimmensional to you. So you own interpretation is always more important than anything I have to say.

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**Nothing but Time**

The Ties that Bind and the Tucker Family

**Chapter 6**

T'Pol calmly strolled into her cabin as Lorian, who looked like he'd been pacing, stared at her.

"What did you tell him?" he asked.

Raising a single eyebrow, she said, "Nothing, I was more concerned about you."

"What are you going to say?"

"I don't know," she said.

T'Pol folded herself gracefully in half and lounged on a white chair in her quarters as she tried to absorb the information conveyed to them. It was difficult to digest: her captain was in love with her – romantically. In truth, rank – all of it – had fallen away years ago … possibly the first time she slept with Trip. Since that moment, at least she and the engineer worked not only on building a friendship, but establishing a relationship. A friendship was always there, but it was buried under teasing jabs, sarcasm, irony and banter.

When Sim had confessed his feelings, something in T'Pol came to life – she felt desired, loved and cared for in a way she didn't expect. It became easy to enter a relationship with Trip; the man himself was fearless when it came to emotions and at that time she craved and yearned for them.

Archer was never easy to read – not then, not now. Somehow the information she heard seemed like it was based in fact. T'Pol _had _wondered from time-to-time if he felt something for her, but always dismissed it as friendship. The two had been through a lot together. She admired the man, cared for him … but never saw a burgeoning relationship with him. Well almost never.

Scooting those thoughts aside, her eyes drifted back to her son. "Why did you choose to hide from me all night?"

"I would think the answer is now obvious. It was logical that I prove to you that …."

Slightly irritated, she cut him off. "Your behavior was unacceptable. Your actions weren't logical."

Lorian widened his stance and furrowed his brow. "I'm no longer a child, Mother. If I were on Vulcan, I would've taken and passed the rites of adulthood."

"You are only 16, and you are half-human. Besides, as your mother, I should always know your whereabouts."

He threw up his hands in the air, as if her husband might. "Where could I go? This ship is enclosed and most of the dangerous areas are off limits."

"Still, I'd prefer if you told me where you were."

His chest puffed out and he folded his arms, staring the woman down – delivering the root of the problem as if it were an accusation. "Did you love Dad?"

T'Pol watched his eyes squeeze into narrow slits and knew it'd been on the boy's mind. Most likely it'd been on the child's mind ever since the accident_. _It was a strange word for a complete and utter system-wide failure of the small ship that led to its subsequent destruction.

_It was a routine mission. Captain Archer agreed to let Trip "stretch his legs" and collect soil samples from the Minshara class planet. Trip finagled his way into the assignment – as chief engineer, he wasn't exactly first, second or even third choice for such a mission. But, Archer finally agreed, knowing his friend was just as eager as he was to explore new places. _

_That morning began like any morning, it was a whirlwind of activity in the Tucker home. Lorian got ready for school, Trip charmed the family with a few jokes and lavished attention on both her and their son and she continued to insist the entire family would be late if Trip and Lorian continued to dawdle. _

_As the couple left the house, Trip mussed his son's hair and said. _

_"See you for dinner tonight, kiddo." _

_Giving a bashful grin, Lorian ducked his head and held his PADD tighter to his chest. As the kid walked off, Trip grinned and stared down at his wife. _

_"You gonna walk me to the shuttle?" he asked. _

_T'Pol's danced with amusement. "Of course." _

_They rounded one corner after another until they reached the bay. The blonde leaned over and stole a kiss from his wife with devilish glee. _

_"This is where I get off." _

_"Do you have all your equipment?" she asked. _

_"Sure, do. God, it's been two years since I've walked around on the planet. I can hardly wait." _

_The two loaded the shuttle with all the necessary gear until he was ready to go. _

_Trip said, "Maybe we can ask Jon to watch Lorian tonight." He gave her a wink and said, "I'd like to be alone with you when I get back." _

_T'Pol's eyes smiled back as her lips gave a slight twitch – her way of grinning. "I'd like that." _

_As Trip rambled into the shuttle, she headed to the Bridge. Along the way, she decided that her life, though being thrown back into the past, had turned out well. It was certainly not what a Vulcan would expect, even one as rebellious as herself. However, it fit like a garment – snugly. _

_On her arrival, Archer glanced up over a PADD with a lopsided smile. _

_"Morning," he said. "Get our temporary science officer off to the shuttle?" _

_T'Pol slipped into her seat and checked over her systems. "Yes. He seemed … eager." _

_"Shuttlepod Two to Enterprise. Ready to disembark." _

_Archer nodded as Reed grinned. _

_"Well, Mister Tucker, enjoy your stay on M-152." _

_Laughing the engineer replied, "Will do, Malcolm." _

_As the shuttle began to move away from Enterprise, Archer crossed over to the science station and shot a quip to his first officer. _

_"You know, there are more convenient ways for you and Trip to have some time to yourselves." _

_Seeing she wasn't amused, he decided to lower his voice and be more sincere. _

_"Why didn't you want to go with him? You could've collected the samples, stayed overnight together – make it a camping excursion? I would've been happy to watch Lorian … or Malcolm could've." _

_"I'm not overly fond of camping. Besides, Trip didn't ask if I could go. He asked if …." _

_Travis interrupted for a moment, calling out over his shoulder, "Shuttlepod Two has begun to enter the planet's surface." _

_Archer acknowledged the information and turned back to T'Pol. _

_Just as she was about to continue to explain the decision, she sensed her husband's mind kick into overdrive. Something was wrong with the shuttle. She felt his mind race and his hands frantically work to determine what the problem was. Power was failing. Back-up systems and their back-ups were unexplainably snuffed out. It was most likely an electrical storm – something trivial and unperceivable from their location. As the power came back on, his mind relaxed. Closing in toward the surface, he didn't want to worry the crew and maintained his original course. _

_But, the electrical storm had zapped the power from the shuttle, causing a spark in the engine relays – causing a fire … one that spread too quickly for him to react to. Within seconds, the fuel was ignited. Trip mumbled a few curses under his breath and reached out to T'Pol's mind one last time and then fell silent. _

_Furrowing her eyebrows, she fought to maintain her composure, but felt her lips quiver slightly. _

_Archer asked, "What's wrong?" _

_"Too late," she whispered. _

_Hoshi's fingers worked to zoom in on the shuttle. _

_In an instant the entire Bridge crew watched Shuttlepod Two explode, flinging shards of metal in every direction. The ship, or what was left of it, floated against the planet … drifting peacefully and serenely. Space debris scattered in an orbit around the red orb (M-152) and settled there, as the crew watched on with stunned silence. _

_T'Pol, the only one who knew the outcome with certainty, bowed her head and let a few tears roll down her face. _

_Sparking to life, Archer asked "Hoshi, any communications? Maybe he was able to …." _

_Hoshi crying softly, answered, "No." _

_"Life signs?" Archer asked to no one in particular. _

_"No, sir," Travis said. _

_"Trip," Reed mumbled. _

_"No," Archer said, hoarsely. _

_T'Pol remained silent. After the captain had recovered a bit, he looked over at his first officer, watching her reaction. The Vulcan noticed he loomed near to her, hesitating and waiting, trying to take his cue from her. _

_"T'Pol, let me walk you to your quarters …." _

_"It's not necessary," she said. Her voice cracked and shook as she felt on the verge of collapse. Defeat was rampant in every part of her body and her legs, arms and other extremities went dead. Trip's voice, which quietly hummed in her mind for more than fourteen years, was gone. Her companion, her friend … a man who'd brought amusement to her nearly every day was no longer alive. It wasn't just difficult to accept, it was impossible, and the finality of the situation hadn't completely hit her. Instead, she stared at the floor for what she gathered must've been a few minutes as the sounds around her slipped into the background and her own thoughts became louder and more pronounced. Thoughts of loss, hurt, pain, love, confusion and grief drowned out everything, except the rumbling of her own heart. _

_She barely felt an arm slip around her waist and help her out of her chair. Her feet … her entire body went limp unable to move. Looking up, she noticed Archer's eyes focused ahead with determination as he whisked into the turbolift and back to her room. He set her into a chair and walked away for a moment and then came back. _

_Resting his hand briefly on hers, he said, "I asked Lorian's teacher to send him home." _

_She remembered nodding briefly as he brought her some water. _

_"I'm sorry, T'Pol," he whispered, his own voice racked with pain. _

_The two remained quiet, she nodded and he slipped his hand around hers, waiting patiently for her son to arrive. _

_"What am I going to do?" she heard herself ask. _

_Rather than answer, his thumb rang around the joints of her fingers and he took tiny pants of breath as if working through his own emotions. _

_"What am I going to say?" she whispered. Her throat was caked with saliva, making it impossible to say much more. _

_"I don't know," he said hoarsely. With that, his hand squeezed hers a little as she stared into space. _

_Barely aware of the world around her, T'Pol noticed her son appear in the room. He was astute – he immediately sensed something was wrong. _

_"Mother?" he asked. _

_Trembling lips worked carefully to deliver the information as he looked on her with confusion. _

_"What happened?" he asked. _

_T'Pol cleared her throat and whispered, "Your father is dead." _

_"What? Maybe there's been some mistake?" he countered. The boy's eyes darted from his mother's to Archer's. _

_T'Pol's eyes held her son's gaze and her body weakly continued to wither. "There's no mistake." _

Unwrapping his hand, Archer whispered he was there if they needed him, told them he'd check on them later, hugged Lorian and quietly left the room.

"Mother?" Lorian asked.

She gazed on the boy … so much like his father – same blue eyes, blonde hair and pert nose. Tears started to flow down her face without restraint. In a rare moment of deep physical affection, Lorian threw his arms around her neck and began to cry, pressing his mother to him.

For weeks, T'Pol would wake up expecting to see Trip grinning over as he sometimes did after they began dating. But, as her eyes opened she realized it was the vague recollection of a dream … a memory. She'd been able to move on; she'd been forced to, but thinking on the end of his life still stirred emotions.

Waking herself from the dream she answered Lorian's question.

"I loved him very much," explained T'Pol. "I _cherished _your father. Deep feelings are sometimes difficult for Vulcans to show. However, just because I don't express it, doesn't mean I don't feel it."

The two sized each other up.

She continued, "I cherish you as well. You are all that remains, that's important, of your father. You remind me of him."

Lorian let a tiny smile cross his lips.

"As your mother, it is my responsibility to keep you safe from harm, which is why you must tell me where you are. I … worry … about you."

"I love you, too," he said.

She stood up and crossed over to him. Tucking his head neatly under her chin, she wrapped her arms around him.

She whispered, "I know accepting your father's death has been difficult, but it's important to do so. You cannot change the past …."

"Maybe you can't understand because you're not human, but … I can't let go of Dad. His memory gives me strength and makes me feel loved. I need that."

The Vulcan gave a ghost of a frown. She wasn't human, but she'd been around them a long time. It seemed obvious to her that Lorian, like most humans, needed to feel loved and have affection given to them. As a Vulcan, it was difficult for her to do. It was something Trip had accepted, but managed to draw out of her with his teasing and his playful banter. But, Lorian wasn't equipped, as her son, to gather it in that manner. In a way, she was glad the boy had many humans to dote on him. Malcolm cared deeply for him, as did Jonathan, and was physical with the boy – pulling him into a hug or playfully ruffling his hair.

"Did you have anything to eat yet?"

"Not yet," he said.

Stepping back, she noted the boy's eyes were glassy, but that his emotions remained contained.

"Breakfast seems to be in order, then," she said. She gave the boy a whisper of a smile, but enough to show the boy she cared. For a moment, he beamed back at her.

"I'm sorry for what I did," he acknowledged.

"I know."

**Chapter 7**

The dining room was mostly empty, leaving the Tucker family to eat in peace. Unlike when Trip was alive, they usually ate in silence. T'Pol although more emotional, was unequipped to partake in small talk. Instead, she would meditate on issues or concerns hoping to resolve them.

As Vulcanly as T'Pol was, she was also a mother, and she knew it was important to do something her late husband was good at – tell stories. After the first spoonful of her broth glided down her throat, T'Pol recounted events that she hoped would give Lorian the comfort he needed.

"Your father was immensely proud of you."

With surprise, the child looked up and rewarded her with a smirk.

"He bragged you look like the Tuckers …."

He nodded.

"Apparently, you have a strong resemblance to Charles Tucker II. Your father often expressed it was a shame your grandfather never got to meet you and take you fishing."

Exhaling quickly and sharply he agreed. "I'm not sure I would've wanted to participate in catching or eating animals, but … I wish I'd gotten to meet my forefather as well."

T'Pol continued providing praise.

After giving birth, T'Pol entered a light-healing trance, unable to carry on long conversations. She was, in a word, exhausted. Though groggy, she noticed Trip cradled Lorian in his arms, crying with joy at his first glance at a baby they'd worked so hard to create and bring into the world.

And throughout the years, she saw that Trip's love was equally returned. Lorian spoke first in English, walked for Trip first, smiled for him and hung on him like a devoted child. From the very beginning the two were completely smitten with each other and stayed that way. Even when the boy had entered what Trip had deemed, "an awkward stage," the only one who could reason with him was her husband and usually wasn't through logic at all, but through love. He'd touch the boy's face or shoulder, bring him into his chest or clap him on the back. Their bond, and she deemed that's exactly what it was, was never contentious or angry. In a way, her son worshipped Trip … something that only increased with time.

Vulcan children, although cared for and cherished, were never affectionate. In fact, part of the training Vulcans received from an early age was to dismiss and deny it. In a way, she felt unable to satisfy some of the boy's needs. Her husband had been the more loving parent, whispering away nightmares, talking out feelings and giving fatherly advice.

Unfortunately, her own relationship with her son was more confusing. She loved him deeply, but didn't understand his need or the depth of his emotions. Although T'Pol had recognized she was the most emotional Vulcan she'd come across, especially after her addiction and subsequent recovery, she was nowhere near human. And she clung to many of her Vulcan rituals as if they were comforts, mostly because she'd always done them.

She could understand how Lorian missed his father. She missed Trip probably even more than she would admit to herself. Illogically, she'd refused to donate or give away his clothing. Instead, she would occasionally bring them out and take in the scent, which continued to linger there. Before going to bed, she'd meditate on him, bringing his face to her mind and imagining their banter.

_The road to marriage and their dating certainly wasn't easy … and she struggled and denied it at each step. But, to Trip's credit, he never gave up on her and continued to be her suitor until she gave into her feelings and him. He'd been there when she'd needed him most – to work through feelings and help with issues – and she had fallen in love with him, even if she was unwilling to admit it to herself for some time. _

Rousting her from her thoughts, Lorian said, "Why didn't you and Dad have any more children?"

Letting her eyes twinkle, she said, "Your father said you were perfect. I believe his exact words were, 'Why mess with perfection?'"

"You miss him, too," Lorian said.

"Of course. More than you know or can understand."

She noted that gave him some comfort. Dipping her spoon for the last of her meal, she wondered about Archer and the situation. It needed to be addressed, but later. Putting it off to another day would be foolish; it would follow them onto the Bridge and strain his command and their friendship. Instead, she'd meditate on it and answer him later this evening.

**Chapter 8**

That evening, Archer wasn't surprised to see T'Pol standing at his door. He knew she'd want to talk with him and get things settled before work the next day; she always approached things logically and methodically … almost all the time.

He glanced over his shoulder and said, "Henry, could you watch your sister?"

Henry, caught up in some game on the PADD, nodded feebly as Archer walked down the hall with T'Pol. She led him to the Mess Hall and then into the Captain's Mess so they could have some privacy. Since no one was expecting them, they entered without a fuss.

This is the moment that Archer had been dreading all day. He'd turned the information over in his mind trying to decide what the right thing to do was, and the most noble. It was obvious from Lorian's reaction the child was angry. The response was probably common and it was certainly understandable, but it didn't make him feel any better about the situation.

Archer stared at his hands.

"I take it what Lorian said this morning was the truth," she said, getting straight to the point.

He chewed the inside of his mouth trying to figure out how to respond. The only thing he could do was weakly nod his head and remain focused on his right thumb.

Wishing he'd look at her, she heaved a small sigh. "Jonathan, how long have we known each other?"

The question caught him off guard, as if it were a trick question. Hesitating, he answered, "Don't know … almost twenty years?"

"That's correct. We've been friends for many years. During that time, I've had fleeting thoughts … doubts mostly … that you were attracted to me."

He gazed on her wishing to contradict every word she said and profess his feelings as they bubbled up to the surface, but waited for her to finish.

"If I'd known, I would've clarified how I felt."

"How _do _you feel?" he asked.

Looking into each other's eyes, they tried to determine the other's thoughts. Archer was brooding, expecting to hear the worst, but slightly hopeful. On the opposite of the spectrum was T'Pol who seemed open and honest.

"I'm still in love with Trip. I always will be."

He gave a quiet snort and turned his head, unwilling to hear the meager explanation of how she'd never care for him romantically. Admitting she wasn't in love with him was worse, much worse, than believing one day she would; the thought of having her return his feeling cheered him up and made him continue with his day … that and imagining two tiny ridged heads looking up at him. Actually, he'd always felt needed – captain, father …. What he wanted was to be needed as a man, but it looked like that was completely out of the question.

"I think you have many fine qualities that have enabled us to be friends for so long and I cherish …."

The way she formed each word seemed it was intended to let him down easy. Instead of letting the conversation deteriorate, he stood up, hoping to make a quick escape.

"I hope Lorian's okay. Think I should talk with him?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. As Archer headed for the door, her hand stopped him. "You're not letting me finish."

"I'm not trying to be disrespectful, I … it doesn't seem you and I feel the same way."

Her gaze fell onto the table.

"No sense in going through the motions. We've been friends for too long to do that," he added.

"I suppose you're right."

"I hope we can still be friends," he said, staring at her.

She gave a curt nod, saw that he needed a little more confirmation and whispered, "Yes, we're still friends."

Taking the information in stride, he walked out, down the hall and decided to play the role of father. Deep down, it hurt that he'd been rejected. He'd been living a schoolboy-like crush for years -- wondering which outfit she'd be wearing, what perfume she'd use and whether she'd afford him the luxury of touching his arm, which she did on occasion. Well, at least he wouldn't be living a lie anymore.

The children were a welcome distraction. As soon as he walked in Elyssa threw her arms up in the air demanding attention while Henry chattered on about the past thirty minutes as if Archer had missed hours of excitement, mostly complaining about his little sister.

With some relief, Archer called up a movie from the database about princesses, projected it against the wall and watched for the tenth time with feigned amusement as Elyssa curled up, mesmerized, in his lap and Henry scooted closer than most boys his age want to be, occasionally looking over at his dad. Jon gave a sly grin and rested his hand on the boy's neck.

With a quick kiss on his daughter's blonde head, Archer whispered to both kids, "Love you."

Elyssa averted her eyes from the screen long enough to sloppily kiss her father as Henry shyly shirked the man's touch, mumbling, "You, too."

A tired old Porthos grumbled into Elyssa's lap and rested his weary head.

TBC


	4. Things Change

**Author's note: ** I smell trouble a-brewing! It's time to come clean. This piece of fiction includes T/T'P flashbacks, but isn't really the point of the story. ShippyGirl's comments are more in line with what I had in mind, mostly because I'm an avid A/T'P-er. I tried to be true to E2 and the words that Old T'Pol told the younger one though.

To the point of AntiArcherTPol's comments, this fiction will never have T'Pol declare she didn't love Trip. That would be absurd.

And finally on the note of Hoshi's children's names – my friend and I couldn't decide it was Toru and Yoshiko or Toto and Yoshiko. If the name is something else – my humblest apologies.

Nothing but Time 

**Things Change**

**Chapter 9**

The events of last night plagued Archer, preventing him from sleeping. He'd decided while tossing and turning to be more careful about his relationship with T'Pol, promising to maintain purely a professional relationship … just like he'd done years ago when they'd entered the expanse. Sure, something would be missing in his day – he loved being rebuked by T'Pol, liked their quiet banter and enjoyed discussing intake manifolds, duty rosters and ship's business.

Well, things change. He couldn't take the information back and he didn't want to. They'd just muddle through this, as they'd gotten through so many other things, at least that's what he hoped.

Nervously, he awaited her arrival, contemplating what she would say or how she would react. At 0800 sharp, she strolled into his Ready Room for their morning briefing. Bringing a mug of warm chamomile tea to her lips, she uttered, "I was thinking about your request take the engines offline for maintenance. I know Michael would …."

With a sigh, he realized everything was going to be okay. It was part of her routine to glide in, sip hot tea and mention how her super computing brain had resolved a problem.

Actually, Jon had expected her to go on as if the incident hadn't occurred, although he wasn't sure _he _could. It terrified him to have his confession out in the open, and he doubted he'd be able to forget it, even if she could go on as if it didn't happen. And at the same time, there was nothing to left to say on the matter. He loved her. She didn't return those feelings. That was that.

How did he know she'd carry on as if it never happened? He could always read her, understand what she was thinking and have the words worked out on how to influence her … maybe even before Trip could. He'd known about her trellium addiction before him, her Pa'nar and other various tidbits mostly because he had a connection – a bond of friendship – that seemed to transcend gender, age, race, species and just about everything else.

When T'Pol was pregnant, Archer was the first to know … besides T'Pol. She'd been on the Bridge, working diligently. Glancing up, he'd noticed how green and radiant her skin had been the past few days. Suddenly, she'd swooned near her chair and he'd rushed to her side and helped her to Sickbay. When she'd fainted at her arrival, Archer blurted out that Phlox should check to determine whether she was with child. Neither parent had told him they were trying to conceive, he just … knew. Just like he'd known Lorian was going to be a boy, how T'Pol had come down with a rare form of Nefratic fever several years ago and a range of other things that didn't make sense.

"Sorry, what have you been thinking about?" he asked, interrupting her.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she began to describe everything again.

Things between Archer and T'Pol were fine; things between Archer and Lorian were awkward. Archer felt his uncle-like relationship with the boy dwindle and suffer. The young man seemed to harbor resentment – it was understandable. He was young and his father had been dead less than two years. If Archer was faced with the same scenario at Lorian's age, no doubt he'd be just as upset and hurt. What complicated matters – Lorian was half-Vulcan. He couldn't exactly yell at Archer or call him out to a fight to prove his manhood or protect his father's name. Instead, Lorian avoided the captain and suppressed most of his emotions. Jon tried to bring it up a few times, but the boy doggedly ignored him and the captain decided the kid would come around when and if he was ready.

Still sadder, Lorian was no longer interested in becoming captain. He stopped immediately listening to logs, analyzing command decisions or reading some of the astronomy books Archer had given him. It was unfortunate, the kid had leadership skills, as well as an innate talent for problem solving – he always seemed to know the right course of action. And, even at 16, he felt responsible for others … which seemed to make the perfect candidate to learn the ropes of being in charge, even better than his own son – who oddly enough had a pension for engineering, or his daughter who's only interest at the time was dressing her dolls … or becoming a princess. He was pretty sure, though, she'd grow out of that stage.

Answering his first officer's questions – he'd agreed to the engine repairs and various other ship duties. The conversation was strictly professional. Before T'Pol walked out to resume her daily duties, she hesitated at the door.

"Your friendship has always meant a great deal to me," she commented.

It was clear she didn't understand that getting a major rejection took time to get over. But, bringing up her feelings and trying to bridge the gap between them was part of the reason he'd come to love her in the first place.

He nodded. "Your friendship means a lot to me, too."

She opened the door and stepped out to the science station.

**Chapter 10**

After a few months had passed, Enterprise was faced with the two-year anniversary of Trip's death. Last year, the mood on the ship was unbearable, this year it was somber … in other words, it was awful. Worse, a bizarre coincidence popped up – they needed to send a shuttle pod to a nearby planet to take readings. Archer admitted he didn't like the happenstance, but said they had to get over the event and carry on.

When Archer'd delivered the news to the crew, T'Pol had noticed the Bridge crew held their breaths. When he'd told them he'd be the one to collect the data by himself, she'd held hers. Vulcans didn't believe in luck or fate, but the fluke was eerie, even to her. Something in her gut, as Trip would've said, had indicated he shouldn't go.

Unable to shake the feeling, she watched him enter the turbolift and head off to the planet. Possibly, it was his admission about his feelings that gnawed at her. Like Sim's confession, it made her feel alive and feminine, although she was loath to admit it to herself. Although they'd resumed their friendship, she felt his eyes continue to linger on her long after it should've and possibly she enjoyed it.

Vulcans, she'd determined long ago, didn't need someone to care about them, but that didn't prevent her from falling into Trip's arms and wanting to stay there. And it seemed to give her some satisfaction now.

'Illogical,' she chided herself as his voice nudged her from her musings.

"Shuttlepod One ready to disembark."

Malcolm's voice wavered slightly. "Be careful, sir."

"Will do, Malcolm."

The descent to the planet Sinara was textbook – nothing remarkable happened and he collected the samples and headed back. The ascent back to the ship was an entirely different matter.

T'Pol squirmed unVulcanly in the captain's chair, perched on the edge, eyeing the screen, and waiting for an explosion or other disaster. As Archer's shuttle neared the ship, she felt a sense of relief. An alarm buzzed at Reed's station and he glared at his console as Archer's voice came over the comm.

He calmly reported, "I seem to have a leak."

T'Pol stood and crossed over to Malcolm as he delivered the bad news. It wasn't good. Something had punctured the outer hull, possibly on his escape from the planet's orbit and the shuttle was losing oxygen. Immediately, she began to pace.

To break the tension, Archer joked, "Could someone remind me to equip all shuttles with A.V. suits?"

"You'd die of hypothermia before you died of lack of oxygen," she said.

Before she could give him any calculations about that eventuality, he said, "I don't plan on dying any time soon."

It was at that moment, she felt not only a sting of Trip's death, but … what it would be like to loose him as well. She recalled him supporting her, checking on her frequently and being there completely for her and Lorian after Trip's death. If anyone understood the hurt caused by the death of a spouse, it was Archer.

The human had a remarkable skill for always being there when she needed him, but since the death of her bond mate, he'd been even more so. There was one night, in an incredible moment of weakness, she'd awakened him to tell him all the reasons she loved Trip. She wanted someone to hear, someone who understood – a friend. Her son, although precious, had school and would never appreciate the reason for cataloguing these things, but Archer might.

_And she wasn't disappointed. A bleary-eyed man with gray hair jutting in all directions greeted her at the door and despite his appearance, walked down to the Mess Hall with her to hear her epiphany. His bare feet padded against the floor, his tank was askew and his pajama bottoms were wrinkled and … yet he came anyway. _

_He climbed into the seat across from her, examining her and waiting for her to tell what was on her mind. _

_"It occurred to me tonight why I loved Trip." _

_"T'Pol …." _

_"He was emotional …. Did you realize every time he saw the movie Shane, he cried?" _

_He chuckled quietly. "I liked that about him." _

_A raised eyebrow met his remark as she continued. "He was impulsive." _

_"You can say that again."_

_"Do you realize no one on Vulcan has blonde hair. I always thought his hair looked like the desserts in the Tarak region of my planet. His eyes were a shade of blue that reminded me of your planet's seas."_

_"Why are you going through this list?" he asked._

_Barely able to speak, she began, "I sometimes felt he was the more giving in our relationship." After delivering this information she looked down at the table, boring a hole into it._

_A hand reached over to her and gripped it gently. "Trip knew you loved him."_

_"I didn't have a chance to tell him that day." Chastising herself she corrected, "Rather, I didn't tell him."_

_"You didn't need to tell him, I'm sure he knew."_

_"We had an argument the night before. He wanted to bring Lorian with him on the excursion and I refused."_

_Frowning, he swallowed and gripped her hand a little more firmly._

_"I didn't know," he said._

_"He wanted our son to see a planet and feel it beneath his feet. I indicated he wasn't old enough and was concerned Lorian would miss school."_

_He heaved a sigh as she placed a hand over his. A few tears clung to her eyes without spilling and she whispered, "I can't imagine if I'd lost them both."_

_"No, I can't either."_

_After a few moments of silence, Archer said, "You made a great couple. Complemented each other well. He was crazy about you. He told me the day before he was going to propose to you; he was so excited and nervous. I convinced him you'd say yes."_

_Her eyes remained focused on the table in front of her as she tried to reign in her control._

_"He was definitely happiest when he was with you."_

_She remained silent._

_"I liked Trip's sense of humor. He had a way of telling a joke, same one I'd tell, but getting a bigger laugh. God, and the stories about the Tucker family." Giving a purring laugh, he said, " I don't know if he told you about his family's dog – Barney."_

_"The basset hound who apparently howled to a song by a performer named … Alvis."_

_Laughing a little harder, he corrected, "Elvis ---"_

_Her eyes slowly met his and she provided a silent thank you, by way of reeling off more information._

_"He was impossible. Stubborn."_

_Agreeing, Archer said, "Remember how he insisted he was going to move nearly 2 tons of sand from one end of the cargo bay to another for your wedding? He wanted it to be perfect."_

_A smile greeted her. "There's no doubt in my mind that he loved you, T'Pol. And there's no doubt in my mind he knew you loved him."_

After using the grappler hook to recover the pod unsuccessfully several times, Archer's shivering voice broke over the comm, encouraging them to keep trying. T'Pol's mind noted he was undoubtedly colder than he was letting on. That was it; it was time to recover him.

Her voice wavered on the comm. "Jonathan, perhaps we should transport you …."

Reed said, "Jon, you're a small target, but I think we're getting closer."

T'Pol disagreed. She was betting some of the effects of hypothermia had already set in. With the size of the hole and the frigidity of space flooding in, he'd probably already lost feeling in his extremities.

After watching T'Pol's face, Reed gave in. "The transporter it is."

Archer asked with bemusement, "I'm within distance, right?"

Reed gave a silent chuckle, "Yes, sir. You're in range."

The three worked out the minutia and plotted how to get him back aboard safely; the big question was the transporter itself. The punctured hull of his shuttle prevented a solid lock, so T'Pol decided to personally work the transporter controls, knowing she was the most qualified person to do so. She jogged down corridor after corridor and set the device, triple checking it. As her hands gripped the nozzles, she tightened every muscle in her body. A blue stream of light swirled particles haphazardly and then transformed into a man in his late fifties who was sporting a blanket.

"I was starting to feel like a popsicle," he kidded with a lopsided grin.

She raised a single eyebrow.

Waiting for a few beats, he said, "Thanks."

With that, he nonchalantly stepped off the platform and brushed past her saying something about needing some coffee to warm up.

Irritating. Thrill seeking. Foolhardy. Bold. No one else would have the hubris to take a shuttle today.

But all these characteristics made him her friend and an excellent commander, possibly better than even a Vulcan one. He'd proven to the crew, yet again, he was luckier than anyone else in the known universe and completely indestructible. Jonathan Archer was larger than life.

And, he may've done something else purely by accident – proven how indispensable he was to her personally. Really he always had been.

With the trace of a frown, she admitted he was not … unattractive. She'd noticed, he'd grown more distinguished looking – gray hair replacing strands of brown and more pronounced wrinkles surrounded his eyes. His body hadn't sagged with age, on the contrary, he seemed as physically fit as he was nearly twenty years ago.

So what if he was attractive? That certainly didn't change their relationship. To not notice he was aesthetically pleasing would've been illogical. Dismissing the thought, she caught up with him.

"I'll walk with you; I'd like to debrief with you on the situation."

Giving a brief nod, he shuffled away, grumbling under his breath about needing something to warm up because he was freezing his ass off.

Closing her eyes, she realized it felt good to hear his voice. Still, it proved nothing. He was her friend, and she reasoned with herself she cared for him only in that capacity. Period.

**Chapter 11 **

A few months after the shuttle incident, T'Pol's friendship with Archer continued without a bobble. Her son continued to remain uninterested in command and began tearing through the entire engineering database in one PADD after another.

She'd begun leading a class on some of the Vulcan martial arts – it helped her connect with Lorian on a Vulcan tradition, kept her figure sleek, assisted with her meditation (which after exposing herself to trellium was always more difficult) and provided her an opportunity to reinforce friendships with some of the other crewmen.

While leading a class in the middle of the gym, people ran on the treadmill behind her, which hummed quietly under her voice, or lifted weights. Today was no different, except she had a new student – Toru Hayes. The boy had mostly the best of both genes – his hair was dark and slightly wavy, his eyes were a golden brown and his skin was Asian. He had an interest an aptitude in language and an interest in martial arts, weaponry and battle. Unfortunately, he didn't have his father's coordination, possibly because he was only fifteen. He was tall and gangly, as if he hadn't filled out into his lanky frame.

The class broke into groups and T'Pol decided to work with Toru while the other, more experienced members, sparred.

"I'm pleased you were able to join us today," T'Pol commented.

Toru smiled, "Me, too. Thanks for talking to mom about it. She thinks I'm going to end up hurting myself or someone else."

"The art takes a great amount of concentration and discipline. I believe for a boy your age, it should prove valuable."

He laughed. "Yeah, once she thought it would help me with my homework, she decided it was okay."

The Vulcan gave a slightly amused expression and demonstrated a block, bending her elbow and sweeping her arm in front of her face.

"This is known as the Sterek pose. He was a pacifist, one of the first followers of Surak. It is believed he created this move because he did not wish to fight. It can help defend against a kick or a punch."

Toru smiled and tried the move, but clumsily flung his arm foreword.

T'Pol showed him again. "Like this. Remember, the primary skill of this art is concentration and exact movement."

The boy tried again. Since the move was fundamental to the instruction of more complicated moves, T'Pol decided to take a chance.

"You understand how to kickbox?"

"Yeah," he said. "Malcolm has shown me a couple of moves Dad doesn't know about."

"Very good. Please proceed to try and hit me."

Skepticism fell on the young man as she clarified. "You may do so anytime you're ready."

He came at her and she easily blocked a punch.

"Did you see how was able to do that?"

Toru agreed. "Yes. That's cool."

"Try again," T'Pol encouraged. "This time, try a kick."

At that instant, something caught her attention. Henry Archer entered the gym and crossed hurriedly over to his father who was running on a treadmill. The boy looked slightly exasperated and his father stepped off the machine with a frown, dabbing his face with a towel.

Suddenly, a foot smacked her in the midsection with a crunch, knocking the wind out of her and shoving her to the ground. Activity in the gym came to a standstill as Lorian rushed over to her.

"Mother, are you all right?" he asked.

"I believe I've cracked a rib," she said, staring up at her son.

"Mrs. Tucker, I'm so sorry," Toru explained, kneeling at her side.

Breaking through the crowd, Archer walked over to her and crouched down. Gingerly, he pressed at her side as she winced.

"I think you broke a rib," he said.

She gave a mild glare, as if to say – no kidding.

He gave a bemused smile, but looked on her with concern. "Can you stand up?"

Offering his hand, he helped her stand. As she righted herself, she felt pressure and had a little difficulty breathing. Noticing her small breaths, he weaved his arm around and let her put some weight on him. Although she wasn't sure she needed to, the gesture felt comforting.

White with guilt, Toru said again. "I'm so sorry."

"You have a very powerful kick. I think your father would be pleased." Pausing to take a shallow breath, she added, "I'll be fine." Turning to the rest of the class. "Class is dismissed."

As the two headed out the door and down the hall, T'Pol's nose twitched. Archer was covered with sweat and his skin was slick with perspiration.

As if reading her mind, he said, "Sorry. I must be pretty gross."

She raised her eyebrow and didn't dispute his claim. "I noticed Henry came in. It looked urgent."

Archer gave a brief sigh. "He took apart the comm system in our quarters and isn't sure how to put it back together. I think he wanted to tell me before I came home and found it. Honestly, I think he just wanted a little attention. He doesn't really open up when something bothers him, and I think he wanted to spend a little time with me flying the remote control shuttle."

"Talking about one's feelings is difficult," replied T'Pol. "I believe he has inherited that from you."

He gave a chuckle. "The kid's cursed. Too bad he didn't get Esilia's personality; she was always easy to read and very free. Sometimes her emotions were overwhelming, but … mostly in a good way."

Archer stared ahead as she watched his face. Memories caused the furrow in his brow to disappear and a more serene expression to light up his face.

"I miss her," he mused.

She wondered how humans could love more than one person. For the most part, he'd divulged he was in love with both Esilia during his marriage and herself after his wife had died. The idea that he may have loved her during the years Esilia was alive troubled her. Although, she'd witnessed him act affectionately toward Esilia in public and gaze at her with a gleam in his eyes. It was the same twinkle Trip's eyes gave her.

"She seemed to make you happy," T'Pol said.

"She did. I hope I made her happy," he said as they entered Sickbay.

Phlox saw the two and picked up a scanner waving it on her.

"I take it class went well tonight?" he jested. T'Pol gave him a blank stare, hoping to prevent him from making further quips about her injury.

A grotesquely large grin spread across his entire face. "You've broken a rib. Should be easy enough to repair. But, I would suggest no more class for a couple of weeks."

Archer backed away as she called out to him. "Thank you, Jonathan."

He turned back to her. "My pleasure."

**Chapter 11**

Several more months flew by and another planet loomed tauntingly in the distance. This one already had a name and plant life, but no people.

T'Pol, Archer, Crewman Adamson (from the botanist team) and Ensign Sanibar (life sciences) poked and prodded around the Minshara-class planet with rolling green hills. The three humans joked about running up the hills, rolling in the grass and climbing a few of the native trees, as the Vulcan gave an admonishing eyebrow. After Archer reassured her they had no intention of following through with their playful ideas, the foursome went back to their duties.

Jon chatted briefly about bringing the entire crew down for R&R if everything went according to plans. His light-hearted remark reminded her that he didn't need to be there, but enjoyed getting off the ship occasionally, bounding around and taking readings with the enthusiasm of a scientist and the eagerness of a poet.

"God, this place is beautiful," he said, looking up from his readings.

T'Pol noted it didn't appear much different from many other planets she'd seen. As she was about to refute his comment, she observed Sanibar – his face was flushed and he was beginning to perspire.

"Ensign, are you feeling well?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she asked again. "Miguel, are you all right?"

When he stumbled, Archer hurried over to him and swung the man's arm over his shoulder. T'Pol followed behind as Archer carried him into the shuttle. Flipping out her scanner, she waved it over the ensign in a few sweeps as Archer laid him down on the floor of the ship.

Within an instant, Archer pulled out his communicator. "Archer to Dr. Phlox."

"Ah, Captain Archer. How are you enjoying the …," Phlox said.

"Ensign Sanibar seems to have taken ill," Archer said, cutting him off.

"Oh?" asked Phlox.

"T'Pol will transmit the information she's collected," Archer said.

She passed her fingers over the device and waited for the information to reach the doctor.

With an amazing amount of alarm, Phlox said, "Tell T'Pol to scan the two of you."

She headed his order and sent the data.

Without his usual mirth and merriment, he replied back to her with urgency.

"Get back to Enterprise immediately! I'll begin working on quarantine procedures with Malcolm. I hope my experience with this airborne virus proves more effective than when I last encountered it."

Quickly, Archer recalled Adamson from his communicator to the shuttle, the three ensured Sanibar was secure, strapped themselves in and took off. Ten minutes into their flight, T'Pol noticed the captain had the same symptoms. Spying beads of sweat trickle down his face and his concentration wane, she piloted the shuttle back … and he and Adamson slipped into unconsciousness.

After making radio contact with Phlox, and ensuring all the quarantine protocols were in place, all four of the away team beamed directly into Sickbay. On reaching the facility, the doctor began demanding medical supplies – including ice and human-sized containers – and scrambling to take care of his patients. The three were placed on biobeds, as their monitors beeped ominously overhead. The physician's eyes and mouth widened.

As he prepared the vats and ordered T'Pol to assist, he said, "This virus wiped out an entire species – the Merins. We came close to coming up with a vaccine, but I'll need to focus on that. I need you to take care of these men. Do you understand?"

Nodding, she said, "Yes."

Filling the last of the containers with the ice given to him, he gave all the information as quickly as possible.

"They've come down with a form of Rigellian fever, the strain seems to be Jan'yk's – something they haven't been inoculated against. Thankfully, Denobulans are immune … and it appears Vulcans are too, but, humans are highly susceptible. Each of them already has a temperature near 40 degrees Celsius. We've got to lower it immediately; anything higher could cause brain damage. I'm sure they're hallucinating already."

To confirm that statement, Adamson moaned.

Phlox continued, "Until I can come up with a cure, we'll need to use a bit of old-fashioned Denobulan medicine – put them in an water and ice bath to bring their fever down. I'll start working on Sanibar, strip the captain."

The last words had echoed in her mind, giving way to mild trepidation. She watched the doctor quickly and unashamedly hoist up the ensign's shirt and begin removing articles of clothing. Craning her neck at Archer, she saw his face was flushed and his eyes seemed unfocused, but open. Vulcans weren't necessarily modest, but had gathered from living with humans _they _were.

With a deep breath, she began lifting his shirt (the crew had long-since stopped wearing their uniforms).

"T'Pol," he whispered.

By the vacant look in his eyes, she knew he wasn't coherent.

"Captain, please relax. You'll feel better in a moment."

Her fingers brushed the hairs on his stomach and chest as she pulled the garment over his head. When she felt at his waist to remove his trousers, he clumsily grabbed her hand. Her eyes darted to Phlox who seemed busy finishing his job on Sanibar, throwing the man into a tub, and scurrying over to Adamson.

Misunderstanding the captain motives, she stared at him apologetically. "I know you may feel uncomfortable, but we have no other choice," she explained, continuing the task with her free hand.

Archer weakly lifted her palm to his mouth and pressed his lips to it, gazing at her seductively. Perplexed she stared down at him, transfixed by the gesture, even though it made her uncomfortable. It was difficult to take her eyes off of him – showing off a sculpted chest, a scarlet face, which made his green eyes stand out, and sweat drenching his hair; she found him desirable – fascinatingly so. Startled by the realization, she gave a light gasp.

At her sharp intake of breath, he nuzzled her hand with his cheek, scraping the stubble of his face against her skin.

She backed away, quickly, hoping to get the response it solicited under control.

Suddenly an angry voice awakened her. "T'Pol! Hurry!" Dr. Phlox commanded.

When she responded with confusion, he pushed her out of the way and finished the job himself, cursing Vulcan humility. T'Pol silently chided her weakness and wondered what came over her. After stuffing Archer sloppily into his own small metal tub, Phlox quickly walked to the laboratory and began constructing a serum to save these humans.

As he did, he threw out a few commands. "Make sure they stay there and … ensure they're hydrated."

Archer the tallest of the men, was crammed into the tiny space, leaking hairy arms and legs. T'Pol folded them neatly into the container and watched over them, heeding the doctor's orders. To her relief they slept peacefully, shivering lightly in their hazy slumber.

After a few hours, Archer was the first to come to.

"Water," he asked, shivering.

She filled a glass of water and lifted it to his head, tilting it as he gulped it down quickly. As he drank from it, he held her gaze.

When Archer had finished drinking, he asked, "More?"

Phlox, annoyed, instructed, "Give him as much as he wants."

It'd been roughly two years since she'd taken anyone to bed. Before her addiction to trellium, she never thought about sex or the lack of it. Vulcans considered the act necessary for offspring; they didn't necessarily have sexuality, the longing to mate, like humans did. But, being exposed to humans and allowing her emotions to flitter to the surface thanks to the drug, she'd discovered how thrilling it was. She'd certainly felt that way about her late husband; she yearned for him.

A tinge of that desire came while staring at her captain and long-time friend. And, she began to wonder what it would be like to be with another man. No, not any man – him. _This one._

Digging through her memory, she'd thought he was handsome before. She recalled feeling some small attraction to him when they were held captive and bound together until the humans, Andorians and Vulcans rescued them. When she accompanied him to assist with the peace agreement between the Andorians and the Vulcans and when she'd invited herself to view the dark matter (that became the Robinson nebulae) with him, she'd thought his face and body was … appealing. She hadn't been in love with him, but … she wasn't exactly certain how she'd felt.

It was only when Jonathan began distancing himself and Trip, or Sim, barged into her life, that'd she'd rethought her feelings. 'Barged' was the right word; Trip was unexpected and completely overwhelming in mostly wonderful ways. She'd never regretted her decision to be with him and was pleased with her life. If he was alive, she wouldn't have given Jonathan a second look and undoubtedly she wouldn't know his feelings.

The sad reality was – Trip was gone and maybe there was _some _logic in a relationship with Jonathan. She certainly didn't have what she considered romantic love for him, unlike her feelings for Trip. After all, Jonathan had been only a friend for twenty years. Maybe she was feeling something because, just like when Sim admitted his feelings, she felt a spark of joy that someone could love her. Actually what was perplexing is that two men could.

She had plenty of time to ruminate over her thoughts – it took another 24 hours for Phlox to develop a cure and inject it into humans. Archer, being the oldest, took the longest to recover. After another few hours, his temperature dipped below 38.8 degrees and he seemed more coherent and slightly embarrassed about the situation.

When everyone's fever broke, the virus was considered "contained" and the quarantine was lifted.

With pride, Phlox told T'Pol, "Ha! Another major catastrophe averted."

"We were fortunate that you had witnessed this before," she commented.

With a little less enthusiasm, he agreed. "Yes."

T'Pol left the medical facility and brought Archer a fresh change of clothes. As she handed them to him, her cheeks flushed a light green. It was difficult to get the image of him kissing the palm of her hand out of her mind, even though she was desperate to have to removed.

With a nervous smile, he leaned up and took them, letting the sheet drop to his waist as she tried not to stare at him.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Of course," she said.

As she hustled out of Sickbay, she decided it was the situation that allowed her to become attracted. Under normal circumstances, she would only look on Jonathan as her friend. Entering a relationship would not be easy. In truth, Earthlings were difficult to understand. Though she'd come much closer to doing so, they were still somewhat foreign and unpredictable. Besides, what would Lorian think?

And maybe even a small part of her never wanted to dishonor her relationship with Trip.


	5. It Wasn't Just a Dream

Nothing but Time

Part 5: It Wasn't Just a Dream

Chapter 12

After succumbing to the Rigellian virus, Archer's immune system was weakened. Ignoring the doctor's suggestion – and that's what he took it as – of getting a few more days of rest, Archer returned to work the morning after being released from Sickbay. He was a little worn out and slightly breathless, but eager to get back to ship's business.

As he stepped onto the Bridge, T'Pol looked up at the turbolift with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"I didn't expect you back so soon," she commented.

He gave a small smile as the rest of the Bridge crew welcomed him. He was about to take his place in his chair, when T'Pol eyed the Ready Room, giving him a silent signal the two needed to talk.

After entering the sanctity of his office, T'Pol watched him sink weakly into his chair.

"Are you feeling well enough to be here?" she asked.

He gave a nod. "Yeah. I'll take it easy. Anything happen while I was away?"

His pallor was off – instead of his usual light tan, he looked drawn and pale. He'd lost a fair amount of weight in Sickbay; after their fever had broken – the humans had a difficult time holding down food. In fact, his appearance reminded her of when they entered the Expanse – gaunt and hollow.

Though concerned, she'd made up her mind that she'd end the conversation quickly and get back to work. Seeing how frail he was made her nervous, as if she would accidentally reach out to caress his cheek or stroke his hair.

Forcing the emotion back, she nodded and gave a shortened version of the events in the last few days.

"Everything else okay?" he asked, noticing she was acting more rigid than usual.

"Yes," she answered quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my station."

With that, she left. In a way, he was disappointed. She normally stayed to chat a bit and then finally left at a lull in the conversation. He was especially discouraged because he hadn't seen her in a while; he thought the two had personal catching up to do, especially since Elyssa described how wonderful it was to be with the Vulcan while he was ill and Henry bragged how he and Lorian were building a new motor for his remote control ship.

With a mild laugh, the captain dismissed the notion thinking he was overreacting. Instead he shook his head and focused on his monitor wondering what work had stacked up while he'd been gone.

He leaned back in his chair and recalled a vivid dream he'd had while in Sickbay – something that haunted him.

_During his fever, he imagined himself lying on a bed, looking up at her. She seemed intent on peeling his clothes off – agonizingly slowly as if to tease him. In his mind, he was whispering her name over and over as her hand stroked the hair on his chest and stomach when she pulled his shirt off. Her little fingers worked at the button and zipper on his pants as he sluggishly took her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth against her palm. As he was about to pull her into bed and end this torture, his mind wandered to being immersed in a tub, seated behind her, barely able to fit in the container together. Unlike most bubble baths, the suds clung to water without dissolving. The bathroom was dimly lit and her scent was all around him. A tinny Jazz singer crooned in the background, and T'Pol's voice almost hummed along to the song playing. _

_Slowly she turned her head over her shoulder. "You haven't finished." _

_He pulled her to him, picked up a pink washcloth and touched it to her spine. In small circles he rubbed the soft material against her neck, her back and her ears, and then dipped the cloth into the water to rinse her off. As the water dove over her shoulders, sending the bubbles down her back, he sighed. _

_"I love you," he whispered. His hand traveled underneath her damp hair, lifting it and he leaned over to kiss the spot where her head and neck met. _

_Not hearing anything from her, he halted his movements and decided to say it a little louder. "T'Pol, I love you." _

_Splashing her toes in the water, she answered, sweetly, "I heard you." _

_He wiggled his finger down her spine, unable to stop touching her, he said. "Aren't you going to say it back?" _

_"Why would I?" she asked, seductively as if she were playing a game. _

_"You said it to Trip," he mentioned. _

_"Yes," she acknowledged. _

_"I need to hear you love me." His mouth hovered over her ear. "I want to hear it." _

_"Why is it important?" she asked. "You know how I feel." _

_"Come on, don't tease me. Say it." _

_"No," she said. _

_Giving a mischievous growl, he drew her closer to him. "Yes." _

_Allowing a hint of a smile to cross her lips and nuzzling into him, she whispered, "Maybe I'll show you." _

_"Maybe?" _

_"Possibly," she agreed. _

_Her eyes focused on him and her eyebrow twitched into a sharp peak. Giving a purring laugh, he looked at his fingers. They were beginning to prune and the water was a little chilly. _

_"Can I have some hot water?" he asked, placing his head on her shoulder, looking at her copper-colored toes poking out of the bubbles. _

_"What?" she asked. _

_He motioned to the faucet and asked again. "Water." _

_Instead of turning on the tap and filling the tub with warmth, he suddenly envisioned her out of the tub and fully dressed. He felt even colder with her gone and shivered. She leaned over as if to kiss him and quickly put a glass to his mouth. She did so with such loving care, he couldn't turn it away. Taking large gulps he thought maybe he'd ask for more, next time he'd divert the glass and place his mouth on hers._

_"More?" he asked. _

_Instead of capturing her lips, he felt the cup clink against his teeth. If he weren't so tired he would've struggled to take the glass out of his mouth and bring her back into the bath. But, he was too exhausted and his body ached. _

_Strangely, she stared at him with a hint of … desire in her eyes. _

_Hoping to match her intensity, he stared back. As the cup slipped away from his mouth he thought about playing their game again, asking if she'd tell him she loved him. But his eyes were too heavy and he closed them again, falling into what he assumed was a deeper sleep. _

Archer thought back on this moment. It was a sexy dream, he definitely felt aroused just thinking about it. He also wondered if the point of his fantasy was a wake up call: T'Pol didn't love him. He couldn't continue to pine for her. She made that clear months ago, and he was foolish for holding out hope.

He leaned over his desk and took a labored breath and began to work.

**Chapter 13**

The next few weeks flowed like clockwork – Jon and T'Pol had an abbreviated morning meeting and she acted as if she couldn't wait to get back to her terminal. In point of fact, she acted like she couldn't wait to get away from him.

In truth, distancing herself seemed the logical course of action. Her own reactions startled and frightened her. Watching him recover was painful; at first, Archer was easily winded and she had resisted the urge to rush to his side to assist him. By the second week, his spirits dropped – she guessed the inevitable decline of their friendship – but noticed his body was recovering. He was gaining weight and began a light work out regiment. Her need to care for him diminished and her desire returned. And when week three rolled around, she felt her willpower wane. Although he wasn't on the Bridge as much, when he was, she'd watch him contently from her seat, letting her eyes peruse his profile. Fortunately, she was able to divert them quickly, before he or anyone else would ever know she was staring at him. Gawking.

From Archer's perspective, he knew she was backing away, even though she denied it. Every time to tried to talk about anything personal, like Lorian, she deflected him. He'd traced her attitude back a turning point: his illness. Something happened that day. Perhaps she didn't want to take care of him and felt saddled with that responsibility. Maybe she was just embarrassed at his behavior … whatever that was. His dream was the only thing he remembered until apparently being injected with the antidote. With some amount of trepidation, he wondered if she was having a hard time looking at him because she'd seen him naked. She seemed comfortable with her body, maybe it was just seeing a humans … maybe someone other than Trip's.

That thought produced a frown.

After the third week of getting the cold shoulder from her, he decided to give it back and quit their morning meetings. He didn't have to get her verbal retelling of anything that happened, instead he relied on her reports, which were efficient, and tried to enjoy the solitude of his Ready Room.

Two days after that, he stopped spending much time on the Bridge.

Watching Archer walk onto the Bridge, grumble "morning" and stalk off to his room, Hoshi frowned.

The environment between the two was becoming unbearable, and the communications officer decided to bring it up in the idle chatter that took place during the course of a day.

"Something seems to be bugging him," she said.

Travis agreed, "No kidding."

"Do you know what's up, T'Pol?" Hoshi asked, knowing it involved her.

"No," she stated, peering into her scanner.

"Maybe you should talk with him," Hoshi said. "He listens to you."

"I might if it becomes a problem," T'Pol said.

Travis shot the communications officer a glance, knowing what the woman was up to as she shrugged. Suddenly her comm beeped and she looked up.

"A ship is hailing us."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows, hoping they wanted to trade and had injector casings.

Hoshi said, "No visual or audio, just text." Swiping her fingers across her console she read, "We represent the Dallans and are on a peaceful mission, trading with ships in the vicinity. Interested in trade?"

T'Pol said, "I think you know to reply."

Hoshi smiled and said, "I wonder if they'll know what 'hell yes' means?" Before the Vulcan could correct her, she clarified, "I wrote, 'We might be interested. Stand down all weapons.'"

"Very good."

**Chapter 14**

Archer tapped his foot waiting to meet the docked ship. They hadn't had any visual contact – the ship's communication method was more primitive. That's good, at least it would give them something of value to trade. These days there was, in his opinion, nothing of interest.

As the door slid open for their guest, Archer was surprised to see a female captain. Most societies, even in the Expanse, were patriarchal. At seeing him, she immediately smiled, lighting up her tan face. Watching her grin made his mouth slope up, too.

"I didn't expect a woman," he said. The words escaped his lips before he could suck them back in and be more diplomatic.

"That's okay, I didn't expect a good-looking man to greet me," said the woman.

His smile widened. "Jonathan Archer," he said, extending his hand.

"Rema," she said looking at his hand and then deciding to take it.

She was way too beautiful and young for him, at least he thought so -- around 35-years old, slender figure, long brown hair that hung in ringlets around her face and iridescent, blue eyes. Rema was only abstractly alien -- her tan face under the low lighting of Enterprise looked almost orange – but definitely exotic. And he liked that.

Realizing he'd let his hand shake hers a little too long, he dropped it with discomfiture.

'Good looking?' he thought. It'd been a long time since anyone called him that.

Something gallant in him offered her and arm and took her on a tour. The two visited every part of the ship, talked and laughed. The woman put her face against his arm a few times – a sure sign of interest – at least in his culture. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure whether this was a sign of interest in hers.

As the she unwrapped her hands around his bicep, the two stepped into the Mess Hall and then the Captain's Mess where T'Pol was patiently waiting. On seeing Rema, she raised an eyebrow.

"I did not understand you to be female," she noted.

The woman gave a wry smile and said, "Well, it happens."

Archer seemed to chuckle much louder and longer than he should've, pulled the seat out for her and then sat down himself. T'Pol furrowed her brows and sat down, noting that Jonathan … the captain nearly always pushed in her seat.

"Sorry," he said. "We haven't had this many … interesting … visitors in a long time," he noted. His eyes perused her nubile body as he wondered whether she'd be interested in him. It'd been so damned long.

"I feel the same way," she cooed.

His eyes locked with hers and the two stared at each other for a moment.

"I hope we eat soon. I'm starving. And when I'm hungry, I end up nibbling on whatever's around," she said.

Her suggestive banter made him blush, but not give in. "I can't tell you how many times someone almost snacked on me," he quipped.

"I bet," she said.

T'Pol watched the two chat back and forth, flirting. During dinner, she watched Archer shyly gaze at Rema and the woman beam – like they were trying to capture the other's attention. In fact, Archer was giving the woman something T'Pol hadn't seen from him in a while – charm. Really the only people he charmed … or tried to … on a regular basis were his children and the crew. Tonight, he was what Trip would call "on" – telling stories and watching the female captain through half-lidded eyes.

"T'Pol, is he always this charismatic?" asked Rema.

"Not particularly," she said.

Noticing Archer scowl at the comment, she decided to divert the discussion back to why they were having dinner.

"We're interested in your injector casings …," T'Pol said.

"We could assist you in upgrading your communications, if you're so inclined," Archer noted.

Rema laughed, "My people prefer text communications – they're less intrusive. Anything else?"

T'Pol and Archer exchanged a slightly defeated look.

"We have some highly acclaimed reading material that …," T'Pol suggested.

Rema shook her head. "You can't be serious. Reading material?"

"We have a wide variety – poetry, plays … comedies and dramas," T'Pol explained.

"Injector casings cost 2000 kranars where I come from." After watching confusion cloud the Vulcan's face, she clarified the statement. "That's not cheap."

"Surely there's something you want," Archer said. "We have a lot to offer." Rostov would kill him if he came back empty handed again.

"Tell me what you have," Rema said.

He pointed to the PADD T'Pol had given her before they started dinner. "Anything on that list. We could also provide engineering assistance …."

Scrolling through it, she scowled. "You're desperate aren't you?"

"That obvious?" he asked.

T'Pol eyed the captain. This wasn't Archer's typical negotiation tactic, but decided to let the statement stand without comment.

Rema grinned. "I like you. I also like charity cases. You've got a deal. We'll trade you injector casings for reading material. But, I hope this literature is interesting."

With sincerity, he said, "Thank you. I'll have my crewmen work on it first thing tomorrow … and there's anything else we can do."

"You could let me show you around my ship. I think I have a few things that might _interest_ you."

Although it'd been a while, it sounded like quite an invitation. It wasn't so much her asking him to stop by, it was her foot rubbing against his right calf as she said it that clarified her intention.

T'Pol's eyes widened at the suggestion, and the explicit nature of it wasn't lost on her. She darted her eyes back and forth between both captains.

"I'd love to," he said. "I have to take care of a few things first."

"Of course," she responded. "Call before you come."

"Always do," he said.

His pulse quickened as he stood while she inched toward the door and headed back to her ship. Looking down at the ground, he smiled to himself timidly. As the door slid closed, leaving T'Pol and Archer alone in the Captain's Mess, the Vulcan gave a slight, but perceptible frown.

"You're embarrassing yourself," T'Pol said.

Wiping the grin off his face, he asked, "Huh?"

"I said, 'You're embarrassing yourself.'"

He rolled his eyes.

"You're obviously attracted to her."

It'd been five years since he'd been with a woman; it was difficult under those circumstances not to be at least intrigued by her. What made her irresistible was her interest in him. The lull of her voice, the suggestive tone it took and her eyes – they all indicated she wanted him. And feeling handsome felt good. She was also beautiful and intelligent. Yeah, he was attracted to her.

He gave a smirk. "I guess I am."

"She also seems interested in you."

His smiled widened. "You think so?"

"You seem almost gleeful about that information."

"I don't feel too badly about it, no," he teased. On the contrary, he felt potent.

"Typical," she said.

"What?"

"Men. This is typical of their behavior," she started. "Unfortunately, she looks half your age."

Disgusted, he made his way out of the Mess Hall and stalked down the hall as quickly as he could. Her tiny stride raced to keep up with him and hearing her a few paces behind, he continued their conversation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, gruffly, increasing his speed.

"I think perhaps you'd do better with someone approximately your age."

A shadow of anger darkened his face and he stopped abruptly. "I'm not _that _old. Besides, you were easily twice Trip's age when you got married."

Halting as well, she folded her arms. "_That _was different."

"How?"

"My species lives for nearly 200 years."

"What if her species only lives until they're 80. Does that make it better?"

She haughtily peaked her eyebrow. "You are missing the point."

"I'm not sure what the point is."

"It seems you're interested in the first female to cross the threshold of this ship in years."

"I don't think that's very fair …."

"You invited her aboard to discuss supplies," she commented.

"And we did."

"You're more interested in satisfying your hormones than taking care of the crew and this ship."

"Now, wait a second …."

"I know it's undoubtedly been a while, but …."

He interrupted, "Been awhile?! That's none of your damned business."

She continued, "But, I would think at _your_ age, you wouldn't be so … anxious."

"I'm not some pubescent boy looking to …." He stopped short of saying the first few words that came to mind. "I think she's attractive, she seems interested in me. I don't see where you have a problem, especially since this is my life!"

"Your first duty is to the ship, not your libido."

"Listen, _Sub-commander_, we're getting the supplies we needed. What I do with my personal time is _my_ business. I thought a _friend _might understand that. I thought I'd get a little support from you!"

"Support?"

"Yes!"

"I think it's pathetic," she said. She straightened her spine, watching every movement of his with care.

"You think I'm pathetic?" he asked, angrily.

"Yes.'"

"You know what I think? I think you're jealous."

"Jealous? Hardly."

"Everything seemed to be pretty safe. You never had to worry about me falling for another woman because _there were none!_"

She remained silent, but gave a Vulcanly glower at him.

"It's pointless! So, stop being so damned selfish and let me have my life back!"

"You're making a mistake."

"Fine! It's mine to make!"

He turned to walk away with her hand gripped his arm. "Don't."

Shirking her touch, he yelled, "Why would you deny me happiness, T'Pol, especially when you made it clear you didn't want me?!"

"I do," she said, quietly.

"What?!" he asked, staring at her as if he didn't hear the words drifting out of her mouth.

Glancing down the hall and then taking a deep breath, she looked up. "I said, I do. I do … want you."

He blinked quickly.

A shaking hand nervously edged toward his face, and stroked his cheek. The touch itself made her afraid and relieved. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him.

Caught completely off-guard, it took him a second to respond – mostly having her nip at his lips made him dizzy. Her mouth was larger and cooler than he dreamed it would be, but her lips were supple and juicy like he'd envisioned for so long. As his mouth responded, hers sought his more eagerly. And being angry and whipped into a frenzy only intensified the excitement and urgency between them. Despite being in the hall, he leaned into her and panted every time their mouths touched.

As in a daze, he rested his palms against the wall and continued to loom over her parting her mouth with his tongue. Before long his mouth and tongue found their way to her neck and tip of her ear, which he'd been dying to nibble for nearly twenty years.

"I don't think we should do this in the corridor," she whispered.

He lamely nodded, trying to swallow and quiet his heart, which rumbled in his chest.

"Elyssa and Henry are with Hoshi?"

The two locked eyes and he understood the question was more seductive; she was suggesting she wanted to _be_ with him.

"They're scheduled to come home around 2200 hours."

"It's 2000 hours now. Maybe we can contact them when we reach your cabin."

He stroked her cheek, giving a lop-sided grin and pressed his lips against her ear to nibble on it and whisper to her. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Let's go to your quarters," she re-affirmed.

**Chapter 15**

As the two wandered back to his quarters he decided to let his hand wrap around hers, showing interest and care. He barely noticed her fingers playing with his as they made their way to his room, but something about the gesture made him lightheaded.

The two had barely slipped into his quarters when their lips began attacking each other's again. Seemingly, she gave him permission to expand his lust, and he reached a tentative hand on her hip, holding it there waiting for her to push him away. When she didn't, he decided to revel in the feeling of her slender, bony hips. He gripped then to him, smothering her body with his as he pushed her gently against the wall. As the fabric gathered in his hands she gasped, which encouraged him to move to her waist.

Breaking his hold, she said, "Let me contact Hoshi."

She strolled over to the comm and began to speak into it, as she felt his tentative fingers unzip the back of her garment.

"Hoshi," she began, trembling under his touch.

"T'Pol?" asked the communications officer.

"I was wondering if perhaps I could ask Lorian to stay with you for a while longer."

Archer in the meantime began to splay open the unzipped material of her outfit – showing off her back and shoulders. His fingertip gently stroked her spine as she squirmed slightly underneath it. Warm lips hovered over her neck as he curled his fingers around her right hip and brought her flush against him. Feeling her give into him, his lips detoured and kissed the back of her neck, then dipped down between her shoulder blades. Staggering slightly she remained intent on ending the conversation quickly.

Quietly, Hoshi asked, "Do we want me to keep him all night?"

"That would be preferable. And Elyssa and Henry?"

"Uhm, sure."

T'Pol was certain Hoshi got a pretty good idea what was going on; fortunately she was discreet.

"Thank you."

Determined to playfully distract her, he slipped her garment off her shoulders, kissing them as he did so.

"You're shoulders are just as beautiful as I imagined," he whispered against her neck, wiggling his finger up her spine.

"T'Pol out," she said into the comm. She wasn't worried about Hoshi overhearing his comment, it was too quiet to be heard by anyone except her, and even _she _had to strain her Vulcan hearing.

Turning to him she said, "The captain?"

Shaking away some of his lust, Archer sat down at his console and typed up a message, explaining he wouldn't be able to meet her. He was slightly worried the injector casings wouldn't be delivered, but decided he could talk his way into them tomorrow. As his fingers worked over his keyboard to send the text, T'Pol kissed his neck, distracting him.

The two lunged toward each other again, letting their lips wander. Their hands and fingers became a flurry of activity – busily discarding the other's clothing. Leaving a trail of apparel behind them, they anxiously worked their way toward his bedroom.

Nearly naked, he dragged her into his freshly made bed. He laid her back onto his pillow where he'd spent nights thinking about her. Instead of rushing the moment, his lips slowly enveloped hers again and his eyes locked with hers.

Waiting before removing his undergarments, he asked, "This isn't going to be something you regret tomorrow, is it?"

"No," she said, brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

He whispered, "I love you."

Her teeth tenderly bit at his neck. "Show me."

He thought about his dream, wondering if this was just desire to have something because … maybe it'd been a while for her, too.

As if reading his mind, she whispered, "What's troubling you?"

Barely finding his voice, he asked, "I … I had a dream when I was in Sickbay that you wouldn't tell me your feelings for me."

"It's difficult for Vulcans."

"I know."

She thought of how Trip would tease the emotion out of her. Jonathan's way was to quietly admit his darkest fears and seek acceptance. Taking his index and middle fingers, she ran them against hers.

"I've been trying to determine the extent of my feelings for you for months. I've found you to be my friend, my support and … someone I find handsome. I've been watching you on the Bridge, thinking about you. I've been afraid to be with you, thinking we would end up here. I don't exactly know what these feelings are, but they feel more complex and confusing than merely friendship."

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her fingers on his for a moment.

"When I said I wanted you, I meant it. I want all of you – your friendship, compassion, strength and intellect. I want the furrows in your brow to ease and I want to feel you smile against my lips. Maybe this is what it feels like to fall in love." The ending sounded like a question, waiting for confirmation.

"Close enough," he whispered, covering her lips and body with his.

Taking off the rest of their clothing, the two fell into bliss.

TBC


	6. Eventually

Chapter 16 

_The fog covered San Francisco like a shroud, hiding the heavens and the stars. T'Pol was standing in front of a massive building, but the shadows of night made it indistinguishable from any other she'd seen. A large hand gripped hers as she stared up at the cleft in a man's chin._

_"We're here," Jonathan said. _

_She knitted her brows in confusion, as he let loose a smile and headed for the door. The two stepped immediately into a slow-moving elevator that reminded her of Enterprise's turbo lift as his hands encircled her waist and he kissed the nape of her neck. Lulling into his caresses, her eyes focused on the red plush carpet underneath her feet. _

_As a sigh escaped her lips, she felt the elevator come to a halt and heard the back of her garment unzip. _

_"Now?" she asked. _

_"Why not? You're my wife," he whispered illogically. _

_"Wife?" she asked. _

_Trepidation scurried across her mind, irrationally so. Not only did she feel uncomfortable about being married to him, she shied away from such a public display of affection. He motions remained undeterred and he worked the zipper down her back, stroking it on the way down. _

_"What if someone was watching?" she scolded. _

_"Who'd be watching? We live here alone." _

_Afraid, she tried to politely squirm away from him, still sensing someone could watch or wanted to. Suddenly, she felt her garment pushed off her shoulders as she stared at the closed door. _

_"Jonathan," she warned, mildly. _

_Gliding in front of her, he slipped his hand beneath her undershirt. _

_"What?" he panted. _

_Words formed in her mouth about being rushed, but the motion of his fingers was sensual and distracting. Before she knew it, he'd diverting his lips from her face and neck. _

_She leaned against the elevator, arching into his lips, when she saw the doors open to reveal her late husband. Trip was wearing a scowl and his hands were at his hips. _

_"Experimenting again?" he asked. _

_With embarrassment, she pushed Jon away and tried to work up an explanation about the situation, when her voice failed her. Struggling to say the words she reached out toward the door. _

_Archer glanced over his shoulder and mentioned nonchalantly, "Sorry, wrong floor." _

_He reached over and pressed a button, causing the doors to close and the elevator to pick up speed. _

_"No," she said. "Did you see him? Why didn't you tell me he was here?!" _

_Without answering her question, his fingers stroked her ears. "Don't be angry. I need you," he said. "I know you need me." _

_She wasn't just angry … she was livid. _

_"No," she said with more authority, avoiding him. _

_Touching her cheek, he said, sweetly, "Trust me." _

_"Get away from me! They're watching." _

_He kissed her forehead. "No one is watching." _

_The doors opened and T'Pol looked into the eyes of her son, glowering at her, his hands fixed at his hips. The boy's stance looked exactly like his father's. _

"No," she said.

Saying the words aloud, she woke herself up and looked around the darkened room. She hadn't meditated last night – that would explain her dream, she reasoned. With a shudder, she diverted her eyes to her sleeping companion. Her eyebrow piqued as she realized she hadn't seen Jonathan asleep since he was found in the Aquatic Xindi's ship, beaten almost literally within an inch of his life. That slumber looked still – like death; this one seemed restful and peaceful.

Gazing at him, she remembered his question from last night – would she regret her decision to be with him? It seemed all the ingredients were there: she cared for him a great deal, he was her best friend, she found him attractive and she didn't want him to sleep with the another woman, which last night – before their argument – seemed likely. When she said she thought she was falling in love, she was honest. It certainly wasn't how she and Trip had formed a relationship, which didn't make it better or worse.

Her issue was commitment; she wasn't sure she wanted it from him and wasn't ready to give it. Instead, she wondered if they could occasionally please each other and continue with their friendship. It seemed easier that way. If they become casual lovers, she wouldn't have to worry about falling more deeply in love, betraying Trip, marrying the man or negotiating living arrangements. If they were only friends who recreated occasionally, Lorian would remain mostly unaffected and her relationship with her son wouldn't suffer further. The logic in her conclusion seemed flawless, but she doubted Jonathan would feel the same way. Perhaps he would come around to that way of thinking.

Sensing her stir, he sleepily looked up at he clock – only 0320.

He whispered, hoarsely, "You're not going, are you?"

Even in the darkness, she could see his sad eyes bat innocently.

"I'd like to be home before Lorian is," she said, forcing back the covers.

"You can set my alarm and wake up early." His hand lovingly stroked her back.

That didn't seem unreasonable, though she was already awake now. Leaning up on his elbow he kissed her arm and gently pulled her to him, placing her face on his chest. He stroked her hair for a few minutes and then planted a kiss on her head and closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. As she heard his even breathing, she decided she could afford a few more minutes with him.

'Only a few,' she told herself.

Buzz. Buzz.

His hand groped sleepily for the alarm and gave it a whack when the noise stopped. As his mind defogged, he saw T'Pol napping beside him and heaved a small sigh. Thinking about taking his place, spooned behind her, he grinned ... until he figured out the buzzing wasn't the alarm … it was the doorbell.

'Oh shit!' thought Archer, jumping out of bed, trying not to wake T'Pol. 'The kids.'

Quickly, he threw on some clothes, ran silently around the room scooping up discarded apparel and hoisted them into his arms. He had just enough time to toss them into his room and close the door before he heard Elyssa.

"Daddy!"

She ran into his open arms and hugged his neck as he picked her up.

Hoshi glanced carefully around his room and spied a closed door that probably held T'Pol.

"Sorry, Jon, I had work," said Hoshi.

Wrapping his arms around his daughter he said, "That's okay. Thanks for watching them."

Giving a wry smile, she said, "Anytime." With that, she headed out the door.

Wondering about his officer's comeback, Archer ruffled Henry's hair. The boy provided a lop-sided grin and ducked away from his father.

"You have a good time with Toru and Yoshiko?" Archer asked.

Henry headed to the couch with a PADD, thumbing it, shrugging. "Yeah." Throwing himself down, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.

"Mrs. Hayes let us stay up late and eat popcorn and watch movies. And then Yoshi let me play with her dolls. And then …," Elyssa explained. Her little nose wiggled. "You smell funny."

He probably reeked of his activities the night before. Great, something his seven-year old really needed to know.

"Sorry, honey," he said, setting her down. "Henry, put down your game and get ready for school."

The boy moaned with more than the usual zest and picked up a few PADDs, as Elyssa chattered away quietly to really anyone who would listen about all the details of the previous night. What happened next wouldn't have ever occurred to Archer, but was inevitable. The door to his bedroom slid open and T'Pol poked her head out.

"Jonathan …?" she asked. As if frozen, she stayed at the door.

Archer's head spun around and noted, luckily, she was clothed and had returned the room to its previous state … almost as if she'd stopped by for a visit and went into his bedroom.

Elyssa ran toward her with delight, while Henry, knowing a little bit more about life, eyed the woman suspiciously.

"What's she doing here?" Henry asked.

Archer remembered as a boy, Henry had toddled in, as he and Esilia were in the throws of passion. Only after a few minutes and some embarrassing things had been divulged did his wife see the boy, watching on with confusion_. _

_Parental instincts kicked in and the two jumped apart, grabbing the sheets to them. _

"Hi, Henry," Esilia said.

_His little brow furrowed, much like his father's, as he stared on with bewilderment. _

_"Whatcha doing?" the boy asked. _

_Having read a few parenting books, but not enough to be considered an expert, practiced … or even good for that matter, Archer decided the best thing to do was to answer the question honestly and without embarrassment, but definitively so there wouldn't be any further questions. _

_"Making love. What are you doing up?" _

_"Thirsty," Henry said. For a moment, he acted as if he were going to crawl into bed with them, as he sometimes did when he had nightmares or wanted attention. _

_As he moved toward them, Archer's fatherly voice boomed out, "Why don't you go back out and close the door. Your mom and I will be out to tuck you in." _

_The little boy's lip protruded and he shuffled out as if scolded. Archer timidly scratched his head, as his wife quietly laughed. Raising his eyebrows, he looked at Esilia wondering what in the world was so funny. _

_"Why are you so shy about it? It's natural. And he's bound to find out. I'm sure he can hear you sometimes … you make a lot of noise," she said with mirth. _

_He got out of bed and fumbled for his pajamas. "I **do not** make a lot of noise. Besides, humans don't really find out about … life … until later." _

_"Ikarrans learn it early on, kind of impossible to avoid," she said, stepping into her nightgown. "Do you mean you've never walked in on your parents or noticed their sexuality?" _

_He shrugged uncomfortably. "It's just not something you want to think about." _

_Strike that – it was the kind of thing that would make a person take the nearest shuttle and head straight for a psychologist. And, being a father meant he wanted to protect his children from pretty much everything life had to offer – sometimes even the good things. He wanted his children to stay young and innocent forever. _

_As the two stepped out of the bedroom, Archer took his son in his arms and kissed him. Wrapping the covers around the tike, he apologized for being so harsh and explained when the door is shut, it's best to knock. _

Archer watched Henry now, noticing his brow knitted with confusion and concern.

"We'll talk about it later," Jon said.

He could tell his son wasn't satisfied, but hoped the kid would have the good sense to leave it alone.

Innocently, Elyssa asked, "Did you have a slumber party, too, Daddy?"

The question was so bizarre he couldn't help but guffaw. He did have a slumber party in a way. He'd had his best friend over, gotten very little sleep, spent a lot of time feeling giddy, and the evening was over much sooner than he wanted it to be. Rather than answer, he reasserted himself.

"Get ready for school. We'll talk about it later."

"Lorian said she'd be here," Henry said, darkly.

With a little more authority, Archer restated, "We'll talk about it _later._"

The boy shot a fiery glare at his dad.

T'Pol hadn't felt like an interloper on Enterprise for many years … until now. She was about to leave when Archer, intercepted her hand with his, and provided a little tough love to his son.

Gruffly, he said, "_Later._"

Henry reluctantly started preparing as did his little sister who wasn't sure what was happening. The little girl loved T'Pol, mostly because the woman, in many ways, had acted like a mother. Both the Vulcan and Mrs. Hayes had provided the feminine touch that Elyssa needed. T'Pol would do things uncharacteristically Vulcan … like tell her she looked "pretty," while righting her dress and Hoshi would sometimes braid her hair.

"You can stay over any time you want," she said to T'Pol.

Henry rolled his eyes at his sister and the two eventually made it out the door. As it slid shut behind them, Archer placed a hand over his eyes and bowed his head.

T'Pol said, "Undoubtedly the same awaits me at home."

Looking up at her, he gave a smirk and encircled her waist with his arms, he said, "I'm sorry you didn't get home sooner."

Her eyes moved to the other side of the room.

"I should've set the alarm last night," he whispered.

Seeking approval, he tentatively kissed her and silently cheered when she not only kissed him back – she tenderly bit at his lips.

"I know we didn't exactly talk about what happens next …," he said.

She remained silent, resting her forehead against his. "No," she agreed.

"We both have to be on the Bridge in about two hours. Want me to meet you for breakfast or see you for our daily debrief?" he asked.

T'Pol noted he already mentioned that the morning meetings, which had been abandoned, were back. Instead of asking him about it, she decided to keep the conversation focused on a response.

She immediately thought of her son and said, "In our meeting."

He nodded. "When do you think we can see each other again?"

"I thought we decided your Ready Room?" she asked.

His nose darted up her throat as his lips nibbled behind it. "I meant _see _you again. Talk about us?"

"I don't know."

He let her go and watched her walk out the door. He couldn't help smiling – it wasn't just snuggling against her all night or feeling her attacking him with her lips and fingers – it was itching something that needed to be scratched. And, it wasn't just taking her to bed, although that was great. Being with her, holding her in his arms and talking with her made him feel … complete.

Deciding he needed to begin his day, instead of grinning after the door and thinking about last night, he marched into the bathroom. He didn't like how the morning had unfolded and chided himself for convincing her to stay the night.

If he had his druthers, the morning would've been more leisurely and they would've discussed their relationship – what both of them wanted. They would eventually, he'd reasoned with himself. He just hoped 'eventually' would be soon.

Something nagged at him, like she thinking she wasn't ready to start a relationship. Trip had only been dead a little over two years, which to her probably wasn't a very long time … especially to a Vulcan who lived for two centuries. Five years – the amount of time Esilia had been gone – seemed like forever.

Sighing, he placed his head under the stream of water and thought about his late wife.

The Ikarran's captain, Naryn, took him onto the Bridge. Immediately on entering, Archer noticed a blond-haired woman eye him and then turn back to the helm. As the captain showed him around the main deck, naming off equipment, Archer marveled at it. He was impressed; their technology seemed more advanced than Enterprise's. Some of it would be useful – very useful. It would definitely make sense to secure a trading relationship with these people. As he mused about having additional technology, the captain took him over to the helm.

_"You said you are also a pilot?" Naryn asked. _

_Jon smiled. "Was." _

_"Once a pilot, always a pilot," the helmsman said. _

_"Captain Archer, this is Esilia." _

_Archer smiled when she added, "Captain Archer, would you like to see my controls?" _

_Naryn nodded, encouraging the small detour. _

_Jon leaned over her station and reviewed the nozzles and buttons. Everything seemed to be in order – navigational system, drive control …. Lost in the console and the joy of piloting, he suddenly noticed he was by himself with her at her station. _

_"How long has it been?" she asked. _

_"Huh?" he asked. _

_A smile crept across her lips. "How long has it been since you've flown a ship?" _

_"I don't know … a while." _

_She stood up and offered him her chair, which he took eagerly, letting his boyish enthusiasm take over. _

_"Sure you don't mind?" he asked. _

_"Of course not. Everything look familiar?" she asked, crouching over him. _

_"So far, so good," he said. _

_As his fingers hovered over a few buttons, she leaned in further. "Seems like you know your way around." _

"Maybe it hasn't been that long."

_As he focused back on the controls, her lips moved closer to his ear and she whispered, "You're gorgeous." _

_With a start, he locked eyes with her – hers were gray and gleamed mischievously at him, causing the wrinkles on his forehead to multiply. _

_"Pardon me?" he asked. _

_"See everything you needed to?" she asked, louder. _

_Archer stood up quickly. _

_"Uhm, yeah," he said watching the attractive pilot slip back into her chair. As he shook his head about to converse with the captain, he noted some movement from her. _

_Turning around, she casually mentioned, "Maybe you can meet me for dinner. What time do your people eat?" _

_"I don't know around 1700 or so," he stammered. _

_"I'll see you then. When my father takes you on the rest of your tour, he can show you our cafeteria – I'll meet you there." _

_'Did she just ask me out?' Archer thought. He laughed silently to himself and maneuvered away from the young woman. Father?! _

_"My daughter is rather impetuous," Naryn explained, escorting Archer out of their bridge. "Independent, emotional, sweet, mischievous, enthusiastic … a handful. She's never listened to me. Twelve children and she's the most rebellious. I thought she'd be married and giving me grandchildren by now." _

_Archer was silent. _

_"Do you have any children?" Naryn asked. _

_"No." _

_Something in the man's eyes lit up. "Oh, really? Married?" _

_"No," Archer answered. _

_"Interesting," responded the man. _

_Squinting his eyes and giving a slight grunt, he focused on the rest of the ship. He could hardly wait to see Engineering. Traveling at warp 5 seemed slow compared to other ships in the Expanse – even 100 years ago. He knew these people were able to achieve something close to warp 7 and wouldn't mind getting a little of that know-how. _

_After getting a full tour, Archer joined Esilia in their cafeteria. It was completely deserted and she had changed into a slightly revealing shimmering green dress. Giving a grin, he made mental note of how appealing she looked. _

_"You look nice," he said. _

_"Thanks." _

_Nervously, he glanced around the empty room and then back at her. _

_"Where'd everyone go?" he asked. _

_"We eat whenever we're hungry. We don't have set meal times." _

_Weakly nodding, he sat down. _

_"I understand you and Father ate later than expected," she said. _

_"I can stay and sit with you if you're hungry," he mentioned, trying to be courteous. _

_"I'm not hungry either. Did Father show you the hydroponics lab? The flowers there are lovely." _

_"Yes," said Archer. "But, I could see it again." _

_"Then, maybe we can go back to my room and I can pick up a shawl?" _

_"Sure," he said. _

_As the two walked, she asked, "How many people are on your ship?" _

_"Eighty," he said, counting all the births and additional crewmen. _

_"You seem lonely for 80 people." _

_He stopped in his tracks. Thus far, she seemed to be one of the most forward women he'd ever met, but her comments didn't appear lurid or unseemly. She made the statement as if it were fact. And truth be told, she was right – he was lonely. _

_"Sometimes," he admitted, heading down the corridor with her again. _

_She took his arm and strolled into her room. With a flick of the switch, the room became only slightly illuminated. To Archer, it seemed dark and cramped – the only things in the cabin were a small loveseat, a night table and a bed, not including the artwork on the walls. There was so hardly any room to move around. _

_"Your dad said you had nearly 200 people onboard," he said. "Your ship is only a little larger than Enterprise." _

_"Ikarrans like large families … and I guess we don't mind small spaces," she said, smiling. "Can you believe this room would normally fit a couple and maybe their child?" _

_He gave a light snort. "No." _

_She laughed. "Would you like a drink?" _

_"Sure," he said. _

_As she turned to a small night table, he studied the artwork around the cabin. _

_"From your planet?" he said, motioning at the paintings. _

_"Yes." _

_"They're all of space. Is that typical for paintings from Ikarr?" _

_"No, I've always been interested in astronomy. When I was a girl, my father used to take me camping so we could watch the stars in the night sky. I knew the names of the constellations probably before I knew how to write or read. Space has always fascinated me. It's so tranquil …." _

_Smiling, he said, "I know what you mean." _

_She handed him a glass of alcohol and sat down. Joining her on the couch, he took a sip. As the glass touched his lips she whispered, "You're the most beautiful man I've ever met." _

_Archer put down the glass and looked earnestly at her. _

_She said, "I'm not usually this forward, but I feel if I don't act now, you'll be gone. I know your ship is scheduled to leave tomorrow. And … I don't really want to see the hydroponics lab. I'd rather be with you." _

_"Esilia, I don't really know you. I mean, I'm flattered and surprised, but …." _

_"You're not attracted to me?" she asked. _

_"I think you're lovely," he said. The words caused a smile to spread across her lips. _

_Her eyes batted at him waiting for an answer. What was the problem? The woman seemed to be the human equivalent of 32-years old and was stunning. The ridge running down her nose was unusual, but … cute. And he couldn't remember when he had a woman in short-term or long-term memory throw herself at him, claiming he was gorgeous or beautiful. He was unattached and they seemed to have at least a few things in common. The way her father had acted, he seemed overjoyed that he and his daughter had arranged a date. So, what was holding him back? _

_The tip of her nose nuzzled his neck, teasingly and immediately he felt ticklish. Rather than giggle, he let her continue. _

_"You need to be loved," she said. _

_"You don't even know me," he whispered. _

_"What else should I know about you besides you're handsome, good and driven?" _

_"I'm not good," he said, bleakly. _

_She stopped nibbling his neck and stared at him. _

_"No, you seem very kind … very honorable. Your eyes seem full of regret, like you've done things you didn't want to." _

_He looked away. _

_"You can't feel guilty forever. Even if you've made mistakes, you should forgive yourself. Everyone deserves to be happy … to be cared for. You certainly do," she said. _

_Looking back at her and gazing into her eyes, he knew she meant every word she said. And she was more than just lovely -- she had fair skin, rosy cheeks, a heart-shaped face, large gray eyes and springy ringlets of gold hair that dipped down her back and shoulders. Esilia was tall and slender – not petite, but with an athletic build. _

_Watching his eyes, she placed her mouth on his palm. _

_"Besides, if you weren't a good man, you wouldn't look so tortured." _

_Before he could think, his lips took hers. Maybe he'd been waiting and wanting to hear those words for the past few years. Stealing a warp coil, cloning Trip, letting down Earth … these deeds had long past and were well out of reach, but were difficult to bear. They weighed on him. _

_In a way, he'd been seeking absolution from someone, but doubted he would ever receive it from his crew. They'd paid a price. He owed a lot of people apologies -- Phlox, Trip, Malcolm … all of Earth …. He was sorry for T'Pol as well – she'd given up everything to be with them and had undergone so much. Maybe he wanted to be forgiven by her most of all, but he never would mostly because he would never ask. If he did, his lips would tumble onto hers and he'd greedily take her into his arms. And, that could simply never happen. _

_Slipping his shirt off, she playfully asked where his heart was and placed her mouth on it. The gesture was sweet, like she was forgiving him, and sensual; it felt good to have her lips pressed against his flesh. _

_With a deep sigh, his fingers splayed open and felt the long tendrils of her flaxen hair. _

_"I love your chest hair," she whispered. _

_He gave a purring laugh, trying to recall if anyone had ever told him that before. _

_"You have a wonderful laugh. You should laugh more often," she said. _

_Although this was a woman he barely knew, his spirit rejoiced. Years of guilt and layers of sin washed away. She made him feel good, in a way he hadn't experienced in years. Her lips continued to caress, blessing his cheeks, forehead, chin, eyes, ears and mouth. _

_Redemption. _

_Before long, the two were wrapped in each other's arms in her bed underneath the covers. A genuine smile, spread across his lips as she brushed her nose against his. _

_Naughtily, she said, "I knew you were good." _

_"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" The words fell out of his mouth before he could think about them, but the question felt natural. _

_"No. I thought your ship was leaving." _

_With disappointment, he nodded. _

_"We have time still," she whispered, snuggling into his arms. _

_With that, she began telling tales of what the Ikarran ship had encountered in he expanse as he listened on, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. He'd known almost right away he was falling in love with her. In a way, she'd saved him. When he was with her, he felt like he did before they'd entered the expanse, as if the things he'd done hadn't happened. Maybe it was because she wasn't there to witness them or experience their impact like his crew had. Worries, concerns and problems melted away as she spoke with animation about star clusters, planets and moons. _

As he stepped out of the shower, he wondered how he'd ended up with such a free-spirited woman – someone who so effusive, emotional, caring, loving and giving. Maybe he was just too damned lucky. Thinking about her qualities, he noted they'd already come to life in his daughter. But, his son had his own temperament – a little moody, sometimes a little sullen and definitely driven.

Esilia was T'Pol's polar opposite. The Vulcan would never be accused of being effusive, unless it was toward his daughter, and she definitely wasn't emotional or loving … at least not in a way most people would notice. He knew the truth; he understood the way she cared about the crew was very loving and tender. Emotion stirred deep within her and he'd witnessed it on rare occasion, especially during her Trellium withdrawal.

How could he love two women who were so different? Shirking off the thought, he mused to himself he just wasn't logical.

'I'm not logical. Funny that I'm in love with a Vulcan," he thought.

He'd long since gotten over being prejudice and distrustful. After working with her for a few months, he began to rely on her more than anyone else … so much so that he'd worked to keep her aboard, even when it didn't make sense to do so. Actually, it always made sense – he wanted her to always be by his side. The two always had a bond, ever since he could remember, and sleeping with her just confirmed that.

In his heart, he knew T'Pol needed and wanted him. It may take a while for her to come to that same conclusion, but she would.

'Eventually,' he reminded himself.

Good thing they had nothing but time.

TBC


	7. Follow Your Heart

Author's notes: Thanks for reading this and keeping an open mind everyone! Special shout out to Zane, who suggested some great ideas (some of which you see in this story). Thanks also to Mana, who's been an incredible editor.

**Nothing but Time**

**Follow Your Heart **

**Chapter 17**

When T'Pol arrived at her quarters, Lorian had already left for school. In her mind, that didn't bode well. The dull ache behind her eyes had been promoted to a throb, which was worsening by the second. Deciding to immediately alleviate it, she strolled out of her cabin and headed to Sickbay.

As she walked in, she noted one of Phlox's children, Zeke, running around the medical facility as the doctor tried to get the boy under control. On seeing the Vulcan, the three-year old stopped and wiped his saliva-covered hands on her pant leg as she raised a single eyebrow high against her forehead.

"Hello!" the boy chirped.

"I think he likes you," Phlox said.

The eyebrow twitched. Under different circumstances she would pet the boy's head, but because of her damp kneecap and headache, she was mildly annoyed.

"Amanda is in on duty for daycare today, isn't she?" T'Pol asked.

"Yes, but Zeke wanted to be with me." As the Vulcan gave a near frown, he said, "I guess we indulge the children … sometimes … too much."

The prideful grin on Phlox's face was difficult to miss. Truly, the scene was rather touching – her mentor, and that's what she'd always considered the doctor, was extraordinary with children. Every toddler or teenager enjoyed the man's company. Remembering his gentle interaction with Sim when the clone was young, cradling the infant in his arms and cooing to him – she softened.

Like all of Phlox's children, the little boy had ridges covering his chin and the sides of his temples. All of them had dark curly hair and strange blue eyes. And, each one was bubbly, curious and unabashed … like all Denobulans. In addition, they had a few human characteristics – a less severe smile, independence that bordered on foolhardiness and each one was easily amused. In general, perhaps the children had the worst … and best qualities … of both species.

She was fond of his children … all five of them.

"Children _should _occasionally be indulged," she agreed, giving Zeke a pat on the head.

The doctor raised his brows and gave her a grotesque grin, as Zeke continued to stare out in wide-eyed wonder.

"What brings you in here?" Phlox asked.

"I have a headache," she said. At the doctor's interest, she clarified, "A mild one."

"Oh?" The Denobulan reached for his scanner and waved it over the patient. "Hmmm. I don't recall you having one since you entered the expanse. I think you said yourself, Vulcans don't really get headaches."

Quickly she corrected him. "My head hurts nonetheless."

Nodding, he dawdled to his the counter that held all the ship's pharmaceuticals and glanced around half-heartedly for an analgesic. He knew that the Vulcan rarely suffered from medical ailments, and when she did it was frequently because she was secretly seeking advice.

"Were you and Captain Archer able to secure the supplies you needed?" Phlox asked.

"Yes. The meeting went … well in the end."

Her response was interesting, but he decided her annoyance wasn't about the supplies, so he fished further.

"Excellent! I'm sure Michael will be happy to hear that," he said. "He indicated to me these casings were vital."

"That is true."

"I know Captain Archer and you have complained many times that there is little to trade. What was the agreement?"

"They exchanged the casings for reading material."

"Reading material?" He jerked his shoulders back and explained, "I'm only a doctor, but that hardly seems equitable."

"Your assessment is essentially correct."

"Any idea why she did so?" he asked, turning to look over his shoulder. He could see her mouth twitch ever so slightly and her eyes shift, as if he was on the trail of the problem, whatever it was.

"I believe their captain was … smitten … with Jonathan."

_Oh, this was getting good. _"Hmmmm …. Well, it's about time something like this happened."

"Have you located the analgesic?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Phlox, who'd spied the antidote long ago, reached for the canister and inserted it into the hypospray, clicking it into place. Without doubt, he recognized she was becoming irritated.

"Ah, here it is! My apologies. I've been so busy with inoculations and what not – haven't had enough time to organize," he said, walking toward her. "Maybe I should ask Zara to do so."

He began waddling toward her and asked, "Is the captain equally … smitten with her?"

"No," she responded a little too quickly, watching the doctor stop in front of her.

"No?" he asked, innocently, teasingly the hypospray back to his body.

"Doctor?" she asked, looking at the medicine she was being denied.

"Oh, right," he said, smiling. He tapped the hypospray against her neck. "It's curious that a single man … who … well … it's curious that he wouldn't be interested. I have it on good authority she's quite attractive."

"Malcolm?" she asked.

"Amongst others," he said, raising his eyebrows as the Vulcan squirmed a little.

"She was attractive, but perhaps too young for him," she said.

_Hmmmm. _"Well, it's to our advantage." Letting a few beats pass and just as she'd decided to walk out, he asked, "While you're here, I'd like to get some advice about Zeke here."

She turned on her heel and looked over the boy – his strange eyes gleaming up at her.

"Zeke has too much energy. Amanda and I chase this one around all day, and he never gets tired. Have any ideas? Lorian has never been rambunctious," he asserted.

"Undoubtedly, it's Zeke's human side," she commented.

Phlox jerked his body. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Deflating her comment, she added, "However, even Lorian runs in the hall occasionally with … vigor."

"How is Lorian doing, by the way? I don't see him much these days."

"Well. Although …."

She crossed her arms again and began staring at the ground; her wheels spinning on her evening last night and hypothesizing on her child's reaction. In other words – Phlox hit pay dirt. The doctor's eyes batted innocently, waiting for her to reveal the clandestine information.

She divulged, "Although, it's difficult to tell. I know so little about human emotions."

"I'm sure he's … going through a phase," he said. Giving a small snort he continued, "That's usually what Amanda says about the children when they seem unhappy or act peculiar."

T'Pol thought, "Trip used to say that, too."

Phlox said, "It's usually sparked by _something_. I remember when Xan refused to eat his vegetables. Unbeknownst to us – he decided since all plants were alive, they must be intelligent and therefore didn't want to be eaten. For three weeks Amanda and I tried to convince him otherwise. Zara finally bet him she could eat more vegetables. Xan began eating them right away."

"Zara has always been intelligent."

Phlox smiled. The concern knitted between T'Pol's eyebrows wasn't gone. Phlox asked, "Zeke, why don't you find your mother?"

The boy gave a slight pout, screwing up his face as a Denobulan might, but sticking at his lower lip as a human would. He headed out the door with his little head hanging against his chest.

"Anything unusual occur lately to cause Lorian to act strangely?" Phlox asked.

She was always … almost always … 100% truthful with the doctor. After the captain, he was the man she leaned on most and confided in. Taking a steady breath, she said, "He misses his father."

"That's understandable."

"He … has … also discovered how Jonathan feels about me," she said, staring at the microscope across the room.

Phlox had mused for some time things between them would eventually culminate to this moment. He'd realized Archer was in love with her four years ago … and gathered he'd felt more deeply about her then than before -- in the expanse or when Phlox himself convinced the captain he was confused by his attraction for the Vulcan more than fifteen years ago.

Phlox thought back on the moment he knew Jon was in love with her.

_The Vulcan's eyes were closed and her breathing was labored, just as they had been for the past three days – ever since the away team returned from Nefrat. Within hours of reaching the ship, she slipped her eyes shut and entered a Vulcan healing trance while her body fought off damage to her nervous system. T'Pol had contracted Nefratic fever … something deadly to her species. _

_Although the Denobulan had experience with these healing trances, he had typically seen Vulcans enter light spells to repair their bodies. T'Pol's was coma-like – sending her vital statistics plummeting – frighteningly so. Phlox hoped she'd wake up, but couldn't guarantee it with any certainty. _

_Trip played a strange balance between a scared, caring spouse and a reassuring and loving father to Lorian. He was at her side as much as possible without disturbing their son or making him think everything wouldn't turn out okay. And although the man was afraid, he put on a brave face when explaining T'Pol's condition to Lorian; he was honest with the boy … well, optimistic maybe more than honest. _

_The captain wasn't any better. He came by in the morning before heading to the Bridge, in the mid-morning, around lunch, in the mid-afternoon and spent a few hours with her at night, long enough for Trip to get a decent meal, spend some time with Lorian and grab a nap. _

_Watching the captain, the doctor noticed he always begrudgingly left. As Trip took his place at her side, he retreated into the background, shuffling back to his room and his life, as if this one with T'Pol was merely suspended. Phlox had continued to notice this interaction, but had dismissed it as friendship. Indeed, he'd believed that the captain and T'Pol's friendship was deeper than many people enjoyed – not quite the relationship of a spouse, but just as poignant and trusting. _

_One day, Phlox stepped into the lab for a moment to gather a few things. He heard the Sickbay doors hiss open and closed, gathering it was probably the captain. He finished collecting the tools and quietly walked around the corner when he saw Archer speaking gently, whispering to his first officer. On further inspection, he could see the captain's fingers caressing her forehead near her hairline for a second. And then the hand retreated, knowing it wasn't his place to stroke her skin or hair. _

_Phlox made his presence known by doing what he'd observed humans do before: he gave a light cough. _

_"I believe she's making end roads," Phlox said, walking over to the bio-bed and staring at the monitor above her bed. _

_Archer straightened his shoulders and fell into the role of captain. "But, no progress?" _

_"No," he said. "At least, not since you were last here. It's only been a few hours." _

_"Where's Trip?" Archer asked, glancing around the room. At this time of day, he was usually in Sickbay. _

_"I sent him home. He needs his rest and he can't do her any good. And neither can you. Captain, as I already explained, she'll come to when she's ready. Until then, we just … wait." _

_The furrow in his brow stayed creased as he stared at her a moment longer. _

_"Let me know …," Archer began. _

_Interrupting, the physician said, "I know, I know … let you know the moment her condition changes. I will." _

_Archer nodded, heaved a brief sigh and gave a small smile to the doctor. "Thanks." _

_As Archer was about to turn on his heal, uncharacteristically, Phlox caught his arm. _

_"Captain, …," he gently warned. _

_Archer attempted to explain away the incident. "She's my best friend, Doc." _

_Phlox didn't buy it. If it were anyone else on board, he would've lectured him on relationships or sexual tension. In fact, he'd already given Archer that speech only eighteen years ago. But, now? He couldn't. Watching the captain's face, he gathered the man knew his excuse was flimsy and desperate. So, rather than challenge him further, the physician gave a nod – the affirmation wasn't sympathetic, understanding or filled with recrimination; he merely acknowledged the words. _

_With that, Archer stalked out of the room and headed down the hall. _

_As the captain left, Phlox let the moment ruminate in his head. It was for the best Archer never told anyone about his feelings – it would've been a tragedy to everyone. It was wise that Archer buried whatever feelings he had. Sadly, the doctor figured he'd been doing so for so long, it came as second nature. _

Jumping into the present, the doctor watched her eyes.

"Seems the revelation of his feelings was only a matter of time," he noted, letting the memory linger.

She raised an eyebrow, wondering how long Phlox had known.

"Perhaps," she admitted, quietly.

"How do you feel about him?" she asked.

Blinking quickly, her eyes darted around the room. She decided to be honest with him. "I care for him deeply. But …."

"But?" he asked.

"There's a part of me that doesn't know what it wants."

Motioning for her to finally have a seat on the bio-bed, Phlox said, "Ah. Humans have a very strange saying – follow your heart."

Puzzled, she stared at him.

Phlox smiled. "I did warn you it was odd. Well, I understand it's figurative, not literal. It's the idea that deep down, you know what you want, you're just not listening."

"Logic dictates …," she began.

"Pppft! Nonsense. After living with humans for nearly twenty years, I think you of all people would know some things aren't logical – emotions aren't logical. Love certainly isn't. It wasn't _logical _to marry Trip."

Studying him, she didn't agree or disagree with that comment.

"Just like it's not _logical_ to feel guilty about your feelings for Jonathan," he said.

Her eyes widened and she folded her arms.

"Everyone, T'Pol, deserves to be happy. I think Trip would want you to be happy. Don't you?"

With reluctance she agreed. "Yes."

"I know you didn't come in here for my advice," he said, pausing, "but, it makes sense to explore your feelings for him. You two have been friends and you care about him …."

Phlox finally reached over to her neck and gave her the analgesic.

"Thank you for your help," she said.

"Of course," he agreed with a smile.

"If Zeke continues to bother you, I'd be willing to lead him through meditation. Although the Vulcan arts usually begin with children over seven."

"What?" asked the doctor.

"You indicated the boy's energy was meddlesome."

"Oh. Yes. Well, I think he's probably all right, but I'll let you know."

As T'Pol walked down the corridors to her room, she thought about Phlox's comments. His words weren't lost on her; she just wouldn't be able to accept things so easily. Jonathan was her friend. She indeed had feelings – romantic ones – for him, layered on friendship, respect, admiration and so many other emotions that it would be impossible _not _to have a relationship with him. The doctor … no, her friend, was correct – Trip would want her to be … _happy_. He was always a giving and loving husband; it wasn't his blessing she really needed to garner. It was Lorian's. Although her son wouldn't want to deprive her of contentment, he most likely wouldn't come around so easily.

The Vulcan entered her cabin, showered and put on some fresh clothes. Looking at herself in the mirror, she brushed her hair and wondered where this relationship would lead. And as she did so, she noticed something completely illogical and unexpected – she became slightly nervous and excited. Running through a checklist of items what would cause this reaction, she'd determined it was thinking of seeing him again. For a second … only a second … she was bemused. Occasionally when traipsing down to Engineering, after Trip and she first began to date, did she feel eager and awkward. With Jonathan, she'd almost always felt comfortable with him – reassured. The friendship was relaxed and gave her strength.

Perhaps it was the complexity of spending the night with him that gave her … what her late husband would call – butterflies. Thinking about a smile on his lips and light reflected in his pupils made her more anxious.

"Maybe the doctor was incorrect about following one's heart. It might be more correct to follow one's stomach," she thought.

Scenting herself, which she hadn't done in years and finishing her makeup, she headed to the Bridge.

When she stepped onto the deck plating, away from the turbolift, she noticed a smirk from the captain as he headed toward her station to meet her there. He stretched over her console slightly, watched her eyes shift uncomfortably and then he took one small step back.

Keeping his voice low, he asked, "You okay?"

"Yes," she replied. "I apologize for being late. I had a mild headache."

He furrowed his brow. In all the years he'd known her, he couldn't remember the last time she had a headache. In fact, in the past he'd wondered when he occasionally spied her in Sickbay with one, whether she was covering up for her Pa'nar Syndrome or later her addiction.

"But, you're feeling okay now?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

Wanting to give her an out, he said, "We don't need to meet this morning, if you're not up for it."

And then a tiny speck of disappointment crossed her features. Confused, he waited for her response.

"Seems a shame. I've always … enjoyed our debriefs."

"I have, too."

She said nothing more on the subject, but the silence to him meant maybe he should have one. Actually, he needed to tell her a few things. She was still the first officer.

Hesitating for a moment, he headed for his Ready Room with T'Pol following slightly at his footsteps. As they crossed the threshold, Archer was faced with something he'd never looked forward to: T'Pol, in a way, reported to him. Although he'd dreamed of the moment their friendship would progress into a romantic relationship, he thought it would create tension and problems in the command structure.

The two gazed at each other, waiting for the other one to say something. Knowing she was more patient and could out-wait him, and feeling the need to say something, he decided to go first.

"I … uh …. Last night was wonderful. I don't want to pressure you …."

Halting his mouth, she pressed her lips against his, and as his mouth surrendered, she deepened the kiss. Unlike last night, her eyes were slightly open, watching him. Her embrace felt sweet, encouraging and full of promise.

When their lips broke apart, Archer swallowed hard and caressed her cheek.

"I care about you …," she confessed.

"I know," he agreed. "I know how you feel, it's okay. We'll just take things slowly and when you're ready."

"I believe I'm ready."

He sighed.

Reaching for his hand, which rested against her face, she placed her mouth to it. "I'm ready."

Silence fell between them, as he tried to read her expressions. The intensity in her eyes let him know she was resolute. His thumb stroked her cheekbone as his eyes gleamed back at her.

Quietly she said, "I suggest we attempt to keep our professional relationship separate from our romantic one."

He nodded his head and let his hands fall to his side.

Carrying on, she began, "Rostov indicated he could replace the injector casings within a few days …."

Archer asked, "Wait. That's it?"

"Is there more than needs to be said?"

"Have you been able to talk with Lorian?" he asked.

"No. Not yet."

Sensing that was all she had to say on the matter, he sat on the edge of his desk and tried to wear the mantle of captain.

"Michael indicated he could replace the injector casing within a few days if they've already been received," she said.

"Got them this morning."

"And Captain Rema wasn't too upset?" she asked.

"No."

T'Pol poked her eyebrow into her forehead. "Oh?"

Casually, he mentioned, "I sent Malcolm and a team over there this morning to meet with her, and start moving the supplies over."

"Malcolm?"

He shrugged, trying to hide a grin. With that, the two fell into their routine of co-workers, with occasionally finger touches, twinkling eyes and hushed voices.

Chapter 18 

When Archer got home, Henry was parked on the couch, playing a video game and Elyssa was brushing her dolls' hair. As he crossed the door's threshold, Elyssa tossed her dolls to the ground, ran to him and threw her arms up into the air while his son barely eyed him.

Archer picked her up and complained, "I'm gonna throw my back out one day. You know you're getting pretty big."

She giggled and incessantly yammered on about her day in excruciating detail – including what homemade dress Yoshiko wore to school, how high Samuel Mayweather could jump (who apparently won an impromptu jumping contest) and what Sigmund, one of the Phlox children, did while the teacher wasn't looking. He set her down and nodded occasionally to prove he was listening, but was more focused on Henry. The man sat on the couch as son, with some annoyance, scooted away.

"Do you want to talk about this morning?" asked Jon, glad to have a break in the conversation with Elyssa.

Henry frowned. "Don't think there's much to talk about."

Yup, definitely like his father. Elyssa curled up next to her father and said, "Was she sleeping in your room?"

It was Archer's policy never to really lie to his children, except about Santa Clause, tooth fairies and trivial matters. Instead of going into a long explanation, he decided to answer her question.

"Yes."

"Oh. Mr. and Mrs. Hayes sleep together," she noted, as if working out in her mind the issue.

Henry sighed with irritation. "Don't you get it, Dad and Mrs. Tucker did it."

"Did what?" she asked.

Archer shot a warning to his son. "Lys, why don't you play with Yoshiko?"

"Had sex," Henry explained.

"Oh," she said. Confusion still marred her face as her lip protruded. Her older brother acted as if that would clarify a lot, but it didn't really solve anything in her mind.

Archer furrowed his brow at his son, who continued to stare down at his game, feigning interest.

"Lys, go play with Yoshi."

"I don't want to," she said. "Do you and Mrs. Tucker want to have a baby?"

He scratched at the back of his neck as his son looked up with fear, as if maybe that was true.

"No," he said.

"Oh," she said.

Henry breathed a marginal sigh of relief and Jon decided this conversation was a lot more complex than he thought it was going to be.

"But, you told me when Nina was born that sex was for having babies," she said.

Glancing between his two children he agreed. Thanks to Phlox, he already had to explain the birds and the bees to Elyssa, especially after Sigmund (Phlox and Amanda's middle child) pulled up a few pictures for her and tried to explain why his mother's stomach was swollen … again.

"Well, sometimes it is. And, sometimes it's between two adults who love each other."

"Do you love Mrs. Tucker?" Henry asked.

_Mrs. Tucker? _"Yes, I do."

"I wouldn't mind having a little sister," Elyssa said. "As long as she doesn't play with my dolls … and if she has pointed ears."

To both quiet her and show affection, he wrapped his hand around her shoulder and inched her toward him a little. The girl, including her talkative and cheerful nature, reminded him of her mother. She beamed up at him, blinking large sea-green eyes.

"Do you love her more than Mom?" Henry asked.

"Not more, I loved your mom differently."

"How?" Henry asked.

He shrugged. "Well, for one thing, your mother gave me two wonderful kids." Henry continued to mope, looking down at his game. "Henry, just because I love T'Pol doesn't make your mom any less special to me."

"Lorian said you've always liked her better."

"That's not true."

"Mom wouldn't want you with her," Henry said.

"You really think so? I think she'd want me to be happy. She was that kind of person," Jon replied.

The boy continued to pout, but didn't provide an answer.

"How do you feel about me seeing T'Pol?" Archer asked.

"I like her," Elyssa said.

Henry shrugged, keeping his gray eyes locked onto the PADD. "Henry?" asked Archer, trying to prompt his son into conversation.

"What?" he asked. He glanced up and noticed his father was staring at him. "I don't like it. I don't think mom would like it. I don't understand. You have us …."

Archer hoped his son would change his mind and think through things. He stared at the boy hoping to get more information out of him, but realized the kid was done … and when Henry was finished, that was it. The boy couldn't be reasoned with right away, he'd need to figure things out on his own and come back when he was ready.

'So much like me,' thought Archer.

As if to punctuate the end of the conversation, Henry went back to his PADD and played a game. Elyssa stared up, almost empathically knowing the little chat was tough and meant more than her father could convey to two children. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she blinked quickly.

With her little finger curled, she begged her father to lean down. She let the ridges of her nose touch his and gave him a small Eskimo kiss.

When Elyssa was delivered, Archer was shocked at the kind of joy he could feel at having at daughter. He always imagined himself as the perfect father for a boy – he loved sports, roughhousing, camping and treasured the relationship he had with his own father. What was odd was how natural parenting a little girl was. From the moment she was born, she seemed to respond to his voice, imitate his mannerisms and do everything without any thought to be the apple of his eye.

He loved both children equally – it wasn't that he loved her more than Henry. It was just their personalities complemented each other. His relationship with his son was possibly deeper because it was more challenging. The relationship with his daughter was easy, he never had to reach out to her; she always bridged the gap for him.

_The first words she ever spoke were "Dad-da" and in English. The first person she ever walked for was him and every step of the way, she leaned on him. It was such a strange phenomenon. Esilia was more gentle and caring with the children; she spent more time with them and concentrated on them more. But, Elyssa always demanded her father. _

_His little girl, he realized she would always be that, no matter her age, definitely needed a feminine touch. Archer would never understand her fascination with dolls, princesses, unicorns, fairies, Solait (a winged creature from her mother's heritage that reminded him of a flying hamster) and touching. Jon was tactile, but his daughter insisted on being held, picked up, cradled and kissed more than it seemed most children, certainly more than Henry who usually shied away from affection …which didn't seem odd for boys around ten. _

_Archer was thankful to work with so many doting mothers. Hoshi and T'Pol in many instances took up the slack and provided motherly advice. That was maybe something else Archer admired about T'Pol … she doted on Elyssa. Maybe T'Pol was the kind of woman who always imagined herself to be better with girls than boys. On more than one occasion, his first officer had comforted her cries, changed, fed, bathed and reassured her of her appearance, intelligence and uniqueness. _

_Growing up different was awkward for both children. But, boys usually fought and settled things. Girls slandered and verbally attacked each other, encouraging other children to join in, and Elyssa was not the kind of girl to stand and fight. Instead, she would break down in tears in front of an entire class of children. She felt all emotions strongly, particularly joy … and sometimes sadness. _

_One day when Elyssa was traumatized, the girl decided to hide, causing Archer to panic in ways he never thought he could. Soon T'Pol and Phlox joined the hunt for his daughter (Phlox always had a way with children, including the Archers) and eventually the Vulcan heard her crying in one of the air ducts. After nearly an hour of consoling her, Elyssa emerged holding her hand. _

_"I think she's feeling better now. But, undoubtedly she's hungry," T'Pol said to Archer. _

_Afraid her father would yell by the look in his eye, Elyssa cowered into T'Pol's leg. _

_"After being teased at school, perhaps you will be lenient on her," T'Pol remarked, placing a careful hand on the child's blonde head. _

_With the two ganged up against him, he couldn't help, but soften. _

_"They made fun of you at school, Lys?" he asked, crouching down. _

_Sensing his anger had passed, she ran into his arms where he immediately picked her up. _

_"Thanks, T'Pol." _

_"Thanks, Mrs. Tucker," Elyssa said. _

_The Vulcan did something completely unexpected. She caressed the little girl's face and said, "Well, I know something about being different, too." _

_As if the two women had developed a secret code, Lys smiled and placed her head on Archer's shoulder, eager to continue on with life's demands as if nothing had happened. _

At the feeling of their noses touching, the girl giggled with glee.

He noticed his son was rolling his eyes and he ruffled the boy's head, causing Henry to become surprisingly both annoyed and content.

Chapter 19 

T'Pol, after her shift was complete, came back to her quarters – Lorian was still nowhere to be found. Deciding to use the time to meditate, she sank onto her meditation mat and placed her hands on her thighs. Her mind slowed as she twisted on mathematical equations and bizarre Vulcan symbols … things she thought about to calm her emotions. As her mind cleared, she thought about her day, what she would say to Lorian and her newfound relationship with Jonathan.

Jonathan Archer had always been there for her. _Always. _Her pregnancy, Lorian's birth, her Nefratic fever, Trip's death, and almost every point in between – Pa'nar, her separation from the High Council, her involvement with Trellium …. He'd always been her dearest friend, even guiding her through the minor tribulations of marriage by giving humanly advice when she was confounded by her husband's response or attitude. Even as his friend, she'd want to see someone he loved so completely return it – he deserved it. Ironic that honor should fall to her, and she should be so stingy with her feelings.

Running her fingers through his hair, kissing his lips and being held by him was astonishing. His outpouring of love and emotion was breathtaking. Jonathan's eyes stared at her, watching her every move to adjust his and waited with baited breath at her response. Feeling an enveloping amount of love and passion was … sublime. She couldn't help but be moved it and him.

Not only was he passionate, he was sweet – asking half-dozen times if she needed anything – water, food, a blanket or more room on his bed. Unlike the man oozing with confidence on the Bridge, she saw one who sought affirmation and bordered on timidity.

Jonathan would never be accused of being effusive, at least to anyone, but her and his children; so, his whispers of love and affection were delivered with painstaking care. It was difficult for him to utter, as if releasing the feeling would open a wound or ensure weakness. But, once the words had spilled out of his mouth, they kept fumbling out with beauty and clumsiness.

In sharp contrast Trip was effusive – he showered his team and son with constant praise. Her late husband wore his heart on his sleeve; every emotion was available at a moment's notice. Anger, joy, and love … it was on the surface nearly all the time. When he was happy, he'd whistle down the hallways or hum to himself. When he was irate, he'd yell for a few minutes until the storm blew over; luckily he rarely did so. She'd admired his ability to call up emotions so easily and quickly and then squash them with agility and grace.

The way they made love was even that way – Trip jumped into bed with enthusiasm and zeal. He encouraged her, raised his voice until passion overcame him, playfully nipped at her nose or lips, laughed at the exquisiteness of the moment, blissfully remarked about how she made him feel and snuggled her into his arms while excitedly chattering away about their life, the engines, their friends and son. The two would eventually wind up with her sprawled over him, as he gazed into her eyes for a few moments, brushed a lock of hair away and professed his love gleefully. Eventually nodding off, almost while speaking, he'd give a little snore as she watched on. Bemused, her eyes danced on the features of his pert nose and soft lips until she was too tired and closed them.

Jonathan treated this just as seriously as he did everything else, and with the same amount of intensity and determination. Holding her gaze, his lips hovered centimeters away from hers. Sweat collected at his hairline, back and stomach. Deep moans escaped his throat and he whispered her name over his tongue as the moment took him. When he caught his breath, his eyes became glassy for a few seconds until he batted the sentiment away. Staying connected with his hips on hers, his finger twirled in her hair and his lips sought hers out, nibbling on them. After nuzzling her nose, he crawled behind her quietly and wrapped his limbs around her. His hushed voice nabbed her ear, where he confessed his love, admitted how good it felt to be with her, asked if she was cold and talked about her. As she drifted to sleep, he provided a kiss at her temple and left his legs and arms draped over hers … watching her while she drifted to sleep.

As her mind pondered the differences in both men, she heard the door open – Lorian.

"Lorian, I'd like to talk about …."

"I have nothing to say," he said. With a slight huff, he tossed his PADDs onto a nearby chair and wandered to the very small and open kitchen to retrieve something to drink.

Suspiciously she eyed him. "You can always ask me, it doesn't have to be right now."

"Ask you what? Why you slept with him? I think I know – you've been lonely. Although, it seems illogical that a Vulcan would feel such an emotion."

Knitting her eyebrows together, she stood up. "It was not loneliness."

"I don't think you should see him anymore, not in that way."

"Why?" she asked, moving from her meditation mat to a nearby chair.

"There are too many reasons to mention."

"You liked Captain Archer before this incident."

"That's true."

"What has changed?" she asked.

"His romantic relationship with you. For one, he is the captain and you are a subordinate."

T'Pol interrupted, "Everyone on board this ship would fit into that category. Even, Esilia did. Besides, I was involved with my … subordinate … your father."

Lorian corrected her, "He didn't exactly report to you."

She raised her eyebrow against her forehead. "Actually, he did report to me, just as I report to the captain. Although I am not affiliated with Starfleet, I am the chief officer and frequently provided orders to Trip."

Not having a comeback, he remained silent.

"Do you disagree that the captain should be allowed to marry?" she asked.

"Possibly. He would be unable to divide his time correctly among his ship, his crew, his wife or mate and his children."

"You're questioning his pluralities?"

"Exactly so," he agreed.

The Vulcan was mildly amused, remembering the same conversation with the man within the first two years of her joining the crew. Her mouth twitched and she disagreed, "I believe the captain can effectively manage all of these things. Besides, isn't that his decision to make?"

"Captains should … walk alone," he said, using a human saying.

"Sounds unrealistic. Vulcan captains marry," she said.

"I just know if I were in his position, I wouldn't make that mistake," Lorian said.

"You said you had other points?" she asked, thinking the boy was naïve.

"After dating and marrying one human, I don't believe you should give yourself over to another."

"I don't understand."

"Their lifespans are shorter. Besides, you said yourself on occasion that the burdens of their emotions is too much at times."

"I realize their lifespans are shorter, but I would be affected by his death anyway. The fact is, Jonathan has always been my friend. I would care deeply for the man even if we were not … involved." She watched her son finish a glass of water and tap it onto the open shelf dividing the kitchen and living room.

She continued, "As for the emotions they continue to bombard me with, I have grown somewhat accustomed to it."

"Archer has always proven that he cannot handle your Vulcan heritage – that he does not respect it," he insisted.

"When has he in _your _life time? That hasn't been true for almost nineteen years. Nineteen years ago, he felt that my people held his father back, but he's long since moved passed that. His feelings have changed and we became friends. I would never have willingly risked my life to serve under someone who hated my species or me … I never would've entered the expanse if I believed that to be true." She leaned forward, shooting her gaze at the boy. "Have you ever thought the captain did not respect or like you?"

Lorian's face flustered with a light shade of green. "No."

"I would hope not. My decision to enter a relationship doesn't change how he feels about you. I know he cares for you deeply. After all, you are the child of his two best friends. You are his godchild."

"If he was father's best friend, why was he in love with you for all these years, secretly hoping to win you over? Why father was so dear to him, why would he pursue you now?"

Her hands wrapped around a pillow and she drew it thoughtfully to her chest. "Win me over? No. He never made his thoughts known. Logically, I believe he would've never made those thoughts known, had _you _not provided that information to both of us."

Lorian gave a visible frown at the last comment and decided to end the conversation. He was unwilling to, at this point, take any personal responsibility for his actions. He'd only wanted to convince his mother that a relationship with the captain was impossible, but it seemed his mother was already … to use a human word … infatuated. It didn't change his feelings; he thought their relationship was a mistake and began to cook under the pressure that they'd continue to be together without his consent.

With annoyance, he stood up and blurted out. "I'll be in the gym." With that, he grabbed a few clothes and stomped out the door.

T'Pol watched him leave, deciding physical exertion may improve his mood. She disliked their argument, but became used to the idea they would have them. Since Trip perished, they were at odds over many things … although, this one seemed worse than the others.

Trip had a way of understanding the young man, but her relationship with her son would never be as effortless. Their personalities conflicted. T'Pol was rational with tremors of emotion, mostly peaceful and serene. To others, she understood she sometimes gave off the air of haughtiness or aloofness, but knew that the crew had accepted her long ago.

Lorian teetered somewhere between too much emotion and not enough, constantly struggling for a balance. Undoubtedly having only learned _some _of the Vulcan rituals to train his mind, he would have to work to either keep his emotions contained or let them loose in anger or joy. Archer always seemed like the perfect godparent – he had the most controlled mind she'd met … for a human. Although anger occasionally slipped away from him too easily, he used most emotions only to prove his point or further a relationship. Typically, they were secured deep within him and out of range.

That control and suppression was precisely what her son needed, and why she and Trip had selected him in the first place.

Perhaps Lorian, in time, would change his mind about Jonathan.

TBC


	8. Time Alone

**Nothing but Time**

Time Alone

Chapter 18 

The doorbell chimed and Archer stepped over to it, sliding the door back and giving a large grin.

"Hey," he said to T'Pol.

The Vulcan looked weary. Illogically, she'd decided to say goodnight to him and very possibly be cheered up, although she'd never admit it. The discussion with Lorian had been taxing -- draining some of her already weakened emotional reserves and for once she sought his company merely because she found it pleasurable.

Elyssa eyed the woman, deciding against running to her and continued to play as Henry glanced up, frowned and then concentrated on his game. Surveying his kids, Jonathan stepped toward T'Pol, and into the hallway. They may have less privacy, but he felt it'd be inappropriate to take her into his bedroom, where they'd have more. It would give his children the wrong idea, especially because of the conversation he'd just had with them.

"How'd things go with Lorian?" he asked.

"Not well, but I believe he'll change his mind in time. Your children?"

"Okay. I think Henry's hurt. Elyssa doesn't really remember Esilia and you already know my daughter thinks the world of you."

With a little more charm, and a smug grin, he added, "Almost as much as her father."

T'Pol glanced down the corridor, and noticing it was completely empty, risked a small kiss with him, which he eagerly accepted and returned.

Hearing Archer mention Esilia's name made her think about the time she first met the Ikarran and realized the captain was headed into a relationship with her.

_The Vulcan wandered the halls of her ship and waited patiently at the receiving airlock of the Ikarran vessel. Captain Archer indicated he'd meet her for breakfast to discuss the supply agreement he and the Ikarrans came to. When he hadn't shown, she'd checked his quarters, the gym and every place else she could think of with a mix of trepidation and concern – it eventually lead her to the alien ship. Although she doubted the man was kidnapped – something that seemed to happen often to him before entering the Expanse – she didn't rule it out. It was unlike him not to contact her and he was never this late. _

_The Ikarran captain greeted her at the portal where his ship and Enterprise joined. _

_"You think Captain Archer is here?" _

_"He's currently not aboard Enterprise …." _

_A small smile overtook the Ikarran's face, and he explained his daughter had a date with the captain only last night. Perhaps they were still there. _

_T'Pol raised one eyebrow. In all the years she'd known the captain, she'd never known about his sex life … in fact, she'd noticed there was a significant lack of it. As if to make the moment more awkward, she spied Archer walking down the hall of the alien vessel in the same clothes she'd seen him in yesterday. He stopped in his tracks, as the Ikarran captain stated the obvious. _

_"I see you've found him." _

_Archer's gaze shifted from the captain to T'Pol. His faced reddened and his hand nervously scratched at the back of his neck. The captain and his first officer walked back onto their ship and stalked down the halls – his pace quickened and hers struggled to keep up. _

_T'Pol said, "I didn't mean to impose. I was concerned something had happened to you. You've never been late for a meeting and … you weren't on Enterprise …." _

_He nodded and said, "It's okay. Can I meet you for breakfast in about thirty minutes?" _

_Unwilling to leave his side, she continued walking the halls with him. Without commenting on his request, she decided to investigate further into his personal life. _

_"Did you have a nice time?" she asked. _

_A sheepish grin overtook his face and he explained, "I guess you could say that." _

_"Will I have to wait for Trip to tell me more information?" she asked. _

_Archer came to an abrupt halt and gazed at his first officer. The Vulcan watched various emotions flitter to the surface – many of which were difficult to determine. On the verge of asking more about it, she viewed him sweep those emotions away and a grin smacked itself on his face. _

_"I never kiss and tell," he said, turning to walk into his room. The door shut and she stared after it for a moment, reflecting. _

_T'Pol was able to judge Archer's emotions with some degree of success. After all, the two had depended on each other for years. She made it a habit of studying his expressions; it was easy – the man's face was expressive. Deep in thought, angry, sad, confused, mischievous … she knew them all. So, she was perplexed to see something akin to betrayal visit his features. _

_For a second, a fleeting instant, T'Pol wondered whether Jonathan felt guilty about sleeping with a woman. That didn't make sense; it wasn't logical. He was a single man who obviously had … needs. She thought back to his features, the lowered lids and averted eyes and confirmed – his look was 'betrayal.' _

_'Who was he betraying?' she asked herself. And for less than a nanosecond, she wondered if Jonathan loved her. _

_'Of course not,' she thought to herself. But, she couldn't help feeling a smidgen of jealousy for the woman he was involved with. It was strange having a woman enter his life. T'Pol didn't feel romantically inclined toward him, but wondered whether their camaraderie and closeness would suffer if he became involved with someone. _

_At times, her husband would claim she was married to two men: himself and Jonathan. After all, he would assert, she and the captain explored planets together, held meetings on a daily basis that would last for hours (spending more time together than a married couple) and seemed to have a way of communicating that transcended language. But, Trip always suggested this teasingly – he wasn't jealous; he was simply dumbstruck at the closeness between the two. Thankfully, he accepted that years ago, before they were ever wed. _

_Trip was right. The captain was her best friend and it was difficult to imagine a woman interfering with the unromantic intimacy she'd enjoyed with him. _

_'If it isn't this woman, it'll be another,' she thought, continuing her walk down the corridor to the Captain's Mess. _

_It was evident her friend had been lonely – as if he needed the romantic distraction to carry him through the day. In fact, it'd come up as a topic for dinner conversation between her and Trip many times before. Trip would bemoan Jonathan's bachelorhood and discuss how good he was with Lorian. Her husband was determined to see his buddy content, and he was certain that meant married and with children. _

_She strolled into the dining room and sipped a glass of water, continuing to muse on the situation. When he entered, she couldn't get over how relaxed and eager he seemed to start his day, as well as a bit unfocused. After an hour-long conversation with him, she'd noted his concentration was nearly shot and then she realized his eyes held purple circles underneath them, as she'd seen him sport many times while in the Expanse. _

_After saying the same thing for the third time, Archer held a hand out to stop her. _

_"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." _

_"You seem tired," she said innocently. _

_Dodging her eyes, he said, "I am." _

_"Do you like her?" she asked. _

_The man furrowed his brow and pondered the question. "I guess I do." _

_It was an unexpected answer to a wholly inappropriate question, maybe even for a friend, certainly for a Vulcan. With a slight nod, she continued on with the conversation and agreed to carry out a few orders and begin working on the supply list. After Archer filed out, she decided something needed to happen right away – she had to stop by Engineering. _

_Meandering into the engine room, she spotted her husband and made a beeline for him. _

_"Hey, darlin', what's up?" Trip asked, grabbing a spanner and tightening a relay. _

_Typical for him during the workday, he wore a smear of grease on his cheek, ruffled hair, a soiled shirt and an enormous white smile. _

_"Jonathan was late for his meeting with me this morning." _

_"Very interesting," he said, meaning it wasn't. His eyes kept focused ahead. "Hand me that calibrator, will ya?" _

_T'Pol complied and provided a trickle of information. "Do you want to hear why?" _

_With only mild annoyance, he sighed. "This can't wait until tonight?" _

_"No, because I'd like to discuss an order with you." _

_Reluctantly, he focused his attention on her, staring into her large olive-colored eyes. "Okay, sugar. What seems to be the problem?" _

_"Jonathan had a date last night," T'Pol explained. _

_A grin invaded the man's face. "He did?" _

_"Apparently, the date was not over until this morning." _

_"Son of a gun," Trip murmured, shaking his head. "You meet her?" _

_"No." T'Pol paused. "I noticed in your last report, you suggested taking the intake manifolds offline during the next month?" _

_The man wrapped his lips around hers and let go, giving her a slight pat on the butt. "We'd be dead in space for about a week." _

_"Indeed," she responded. _

_"I like the way you think," he said. _

_With that, she let her lips twitch into her version of a smile (which meant her face barely tugged at the corners), while blinking carefully. The two discussed some of the details as engineer and first officer, but ended their meeting with another peck on the lips. _

_T'Pol made her way back to the Bridge and sat at her station without further comment. As Archer reviewed the console at his chair, he noticed some new information crossing the screen – important information. Enterprise was going to take the engines offline, putting them a week behind schedule. As soon as the news scrolled across his small screen, he looked up at T'Pol with bewilderment. Although she had a lot more autonomy, this would typically be a decision she discussed with him **before** commanding this order._

_"May I see you in the Ready Room?" she asked, watching his eyebrows furrow. _

_"I was just about to ask you that same question," he replied, sharply. _

_As the two climbed into his small office, T'Pol began reeling off the reasons for her decisions – all perfectly logical. _

_"Captain, it appears we have met an ally in the Ikarrans. They are technologically superior to us. Perhaps it would be worth our while to stay docked with them and get more information about this … said technology." _

_She remembered him staring at her waiting for more information. "For example, the navigational equipment they have aboard their ship is …." _

_"What's going on?" he asked, perching himself on the edge of his desk. _

_Her eyes widened. "Exactly what I said. We've found an ally …." _

_He interrupted her. "How long have we known each other?" _

_Uncertain of the question, she raised an eyebrow. "Approximately seven years." _

_"Don't you think you can tell me what's really going on?" _

_Her lip quivered by mere centimeters as she thought through her response. It was plain to everyone the captain needed company … well, everyone save him. _

_Deciding whether to be truthful, she threw caution to the wind. _

_"Captain, I don't mean to be crude, but this date last night … I would gather it's the first you had in some time." _

_He guffawed as she continued. _

_"I don't want to be disrespectful, but you seemed … content this morning – more so than possibly at any time since we've entered the Expanse. I, as your friend, would like to see you … satisfied with your life. I would like to see you have children and raise them, because I think you would be a good and decent father, as well as have your children add to … pardon my bluntness … add to our gene pool. I would be honored knowing my children had a possibility of becoming intimate with yours." _

_His eyebrows furrowed. "Don't you think you're rushing me a little? I just met her." _

_"I'm providing you an opportunity to … know her better." _

_He sighed and gave an odd smile. "All right. I just wished you'd cleared it with me." _

_"But, I knew you wouldn't agree." _

_"You're right. I probably wouldn't have." _

_Feeling like she had the upper hand, and his agreement, she headed toward the door as she heard him speak again, in a husky voice, the one he sometimes reserved for only her. _

_"Your idea or Trip's?" _

_"Mine," she answered back. _

_With her back still to him and her finger against the door, he spoke again. _

_"Thanks. Maybe you could meet her. Your opinion means a lot to me." _

_Uncharacteristically, she threw over her shoulder something that sounded very human__:__ "What's not to like? She likes you, doesn't she?" _

_With that, she quickly left. What she said was 100% correct. If she'd been human, she would've given a wry smile. Feeling good about the decision she'd made, she sat contently at her station and pulled up some schematics. _

As she recalled this, she felt his lips pressed against hers. Crewman Mary Rogers, from the armory, passed by – giving the two an interested glance. So, T'Pol reminded Jonathan he was captain.

He quipped, "Good, that means I can keep this up as long as I want to."

And so he could. She grabbed the lapels of his shirt and drew him a little closer to her mouth before their lips parted.

In a low voice he said, "Maybe we can see if Phlox and Hoshi can watch our children on Wednesday."

Feeling like she belonged solely to him, she nodded against his mouth, as she met it with her lips for the last time that evening.

Chapter 19 

As two days crept slowly by, he assured his kids they would be staying at a different location than Lorian; it'd be easier on everyone. Henry and Elyssa would be staying with Phlox and Amanda, leaving Toru and Lorian together. The two boys got along extremely well and two more children to look after suited Phlox just fine.

As Archer dropped Henry and Elyssa off, he looked on with horror as the kids ran rampant around the small room, giggling, throwing pillows and yelling. Wild haired and devil-eyed, Phlox scampered after them trying to urge a modicum amount of control. It was amazing those children had enough room to run – the Phlox quarters were cramped; Enterprise's engineers couldn't keep expanding the room to accommodate all the children the man had. The man had a lot of children.

A tall buxom woman came to the door as Henry ran over to the boy roughly his age -Xander. Sigmund, who Jon gathered had a crush on his daughter, wrapped his alien hand around her wrist and dragged her in. Jon, as a father, he had his eye on that boy; he never thought any of Phlox's children would hurt his daughter – the doctor was the most benevolent guy he could imagine. But, he did think the boy would try something normal boys around that age would: to kiss her. And, for some reason, Archer wanted to delay that experience for his daughter as long as possible. It was unreasonable and illogical, but true.

While Jonathan gave the boy an icy, fatherly stare, Elyssa yelped a girlish squeal and greeted Sigmund with a hug. After a few moments she ran after him, while he ducked behind a piece of furniture as Phlox still helplessly attempted to calm Zeke, one of the younger ones.

A strange notion occurred to Archer: Elyssa was probably the aggressor in that relationship. The little girl seemed taken with the alien, doing things that little girls did to show interest – including pinching him and pulling on his hair. Sigmund was very definitely a troublemaker, but was just as interested in her – including showing her dirty things he'd looked up and passing notes. Under his breath, Archer gave a guffaw and thought about his little girl ending up with one of the Coles. (Phlox and Amanda gave all the children her last name.)

Henry looked over his shoulder after showing Xander some blueprints to build a model spaceship, something under normal circumstances he and his dad would do. Jon smiled at his boy, who gave an embarrassed sigh back, thanked Amanda, gave a slight wave and walked down the hall. As he made his way back to his cabin to get ready for his date, he wondered if the woman was pregnant again – she had that childbearing glow about her and her stomach protruded more than it normally did.

"Number six?!" he asked himself. With that, he showered and thought about a romantic evening with T'Pol.

T'Pol walked with Lorian, who continued to quiz her.

"Toru was eager to have you over tonight," T'Pol mentioned, glad that the Hayes' managed to suggest the idea to their son. It was less unseemly that way.

Lorian liked him … and Henry. Those two were probably the closest friends he had on Enterprise. And typically, Lorian was the leader in their activity, Henry made it happen through some engineering miracle and Toru was their go-to man. He'd do whatever they told him to, as if he was fearless. The Vulcan always admired that about his friend – bravery and courage that knew no physical boundaries. Yoshiko, Toru's sister, seemed slightly more fragile, but had an affinity to music, language and the arts. No doubt the girl would grow up to be elegant and refined.

When Hoshi appeared at the door, she curled her hand around Lorian's head and smoothed it, letting the boy in. It was one of the platitudes he liked from humans – the feeling of belonging and being cared for. Fortunately for him, his parents were surrounded by people who were determined to rear him. Uncle Malcolm, which he still called the man, no matter at 16 how ridiculous it sounded, provided advice on women. When his uncle would drone on about females, Lorian had wondered if he should be listening to a man who had been a bachelor all his days.

Phlox, an infinitely jovial man, provided the most fatherly advice. The man had taken to teaching biology, which for some reason alarmed T'Pol at first, but he had been proven to be a true mentor to the boy. Hoshi was the human mother he wished he had – loving, gracious, affectionate and caring. Archer in the past had served as commander and second father -- showing the boy love, discipline and an interest in following his dreams … which included stargazing.

He shoved thoughts about Archer aside as Toru grinned at seeing him.

"I've been reviewing the tactical information Dad provided me with during his training at the MACO Corps back on Earth," Toru said.

T'Pol saw her son get settled and decided to level with Hoshi. "Thank you for agreeing to this."

The woman nodded and decided to broach the subject. "So, I take it you and …?"

T'Pol agreed quietly, ensuring her son was out of eavesdropping range. "Yes."

"I'm glad," she whispered back. "You'll invite me to the wedding, right?"

T'Pol raised both eyebrows, as Hoshi laughed. "It's a joke, T'Pol."

The Vulcan was silently perplexed and exited the conversation hurriedly. Although she felt comfortable with the woman, she wasn't ready to think about this step with Archer. Unfortunately, now that it'd been said, certainly it would invade her thoughts. As she rounded corners and strolled down hallways, she came back to her cabin.

Archer was waiting in front of her door and produced a nervous smile.

"Seems I have you all to myself," he said, unsure how this night would go.

"It appears that way," she said.

She opened her door and allowed him access, which he took hesitantly walking behind her. As she entered her room, he confessed, "It's been a while since I dated. In fact, I didn't really date Esilia."

He wasn't sure why he needed to say it, but felt relieved once it left his mouth.

T'Pol agreed, "You knew each other approximately one week before marrying."

As Archer entered, he looked around. The room was like a cathedral – with candles every two feet, which T'Pol preceded to light. When all of them were lit, she reduced the lighting and a shimmering glow filled the cabin. Breathing deeply, he noticed a strong, but heady spice beginning to waft through the room. The smell was not quite floral, but more like spiced tea. Immediately he felt intoxicated on her.

"But, you only gave me a week," he said.

"You appeared to need less, actually."

_Archer remembered the last day the Ikarran vessel and his ship would be docked. He'd been glad to spend more time with Esilia. They had a lot in common -- her grandfather was an astronomer and her father helped pilot one of the first long-range vessels from Ikarr that held families in its belly. She herself was an ace pilot, who had got her ship out of serious scrapes. The woman was curious, playful and loving. All in all, the captain was going to have a hard time saying goodbye to her. Looking over her long golden tendrils and into her gray eyes showed him that he wasn't really a monster – that the Expanse was a blip – and that he was worthy of being happy. He was … love-struck by her and everything about her, but asking her to stay didn't seem like the right thing to do for many reasons – some of which he couldn't quite put his finger on. The reason that spoke the loudest was: captains worried about the fate of their crew and never mixed with subordinates. If she joined Enterprise, she'd be reporting to him. _

_Meanwhile, his direct reports – namely Trip and T'Pol – were already encouraging him to have her onboard longer. How long was never specified, but Jon got the idea that to them it meant indefinitely. _

_Toward that end, Trip and T'Pol planned a farewell dinner at their quarters to meet the woman. Jonathan had only accepted because Trip seemed so insistent; his pal wouldn't let up, commenting that he'd been hiding her away for a whole week. Even T'Pol had commented that she'd been promised a meeting. With both of them working in cahoots, he couldn't say no. _

_As the door to the Tucker cabin slid open, Archer knew he was in for quite a night – the engineer was grinning from ear-to-ear as he gave Esilia the once over. _

_"Well, well. Nice to meet ya. Jon's told us all about you." _

_Esilia glanced up at Jon. _

_"My name's Trip and this is Lorian." _

_The Ikarran took Trip's extended hand. "My name is Esilia." _

_"Oh, we know who you are," Trip replied, smiling and then firmly taking her hand. He gave his boy a gentle push and the kid sprung into action. Apparently, he'd been prepped on how to distract Archer for the evening. _

_"I have some questions about the astronomy book you lent me," Lorian said. Ignoring his son for the first time in maybe the kid's lifetime, the engineer scooped Esilia's arm and began to chat. Archer looked suspiciously at the little boy as he toddled away from the two, toward the kitchen – still within hearing range – and plopped down onto a small sofa that could hold both of them. _

_"What's this?" Lorian asked. _

_Archer sat down, giving in, and leaned into the boy; this was definitely a set-up. Lorian already knew the names of all the heavenly bodies and reeled them off easily. _

_Speaking softly, he asked, "Are you sure you don't know?" _

_Lorian's hazel eyes focused on the captain and he said, "A quasar." _

_"Ah, you did know," he whispered. The man laughed. _

_Across the room, Trip prodded Esilia, pointing to his pal and Lorian. "Look at that will ya? You know, Jon would make a great Dad. He's been lending the kid books ever since the boy could read. And, Lorian adores him." _

_"Trip," Jon scolded as the engineer pretended he didn't hear him. _

_T'Pol wandered out from behind the kitchen counter with a small plate of vegetarian snacks. Her eyes leveled on Esilia and then back down on the tray to set it on a nearby table. _

_"My name is T'Pol."  
  
_

_Esilia stuck her hand out, as the Vulcan regarded it. _

_"My people do not … shake hands," T'Pol said. _

_"I'm sorry. I believe Jon told me," she said. _

_"No apologies necessary. How would an Ikarran greet?" T'Pol asked. _

_Esilia smiled and said, "If you're uncomfortable with touching my hand, you wouldn't want me to greet you like an Ikarran." _

_Jon chimed in as Lorian turned the page beside him, "Kinda like a hug." _

_T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "I see." _

_Trip walked over to his boy, petted his hair and watched him beam. He wrapped his arms around him and swung Lorian into the air, which would've caused human children to squeal with delight. The little Vulcan smiled, but didn't giggle with glee. Instead, he flung his arms around Trip's neck and hung on tightly. _

_Esilia reached a hand and patted the boy's back. "How old are you?" _

_Lorian blinked, enjoying being caressed. "Four." _

_"You're very smart for a four-year old," she noted. _

_"Good genes," Trip quipped. _

_"Indeed," T'Pol added, acting as if hers were the ones that added intelligence as Trip rolled his eyes. _

_Ignoring her claim of superiority, Trip offered Esilia a seat on the couch and said, "I hear you're one heck of a pilot." _

_She shrugged. "I'm not bad." _

_Jon grinned. "She's being kind. She told me about a maneuver that Robinson himself couldn't pull off. It's like an L-4, but with an inverted axis." _

_"No kiddin'?" Trip asked. _

_"It wasn't that difficult," she said, smiling. _

_Out of the corner of Archer's eye, he saw T'Pol laid more food on a table and went back to the kitchen, behind the open counter, watching. Something about her movements and pacing seemed to indicate she felt … aloof, perhaps like she didn't belong. Since Esilia, who was naturally friendly, and Trip, who was possibly just as congenial, seemed to hit it off, Archer stood up and made his way over to T'Pol. _

_"Can I help you with dinner?" he asked. _

_"It's already prepared, but thank you." _

_"I would've brought you some wine, but … we traded the last of it to the Ikarrans yesterday for some equipment." _

_"Understandable." She noticed Archer was about to open his mouth when she decided to speak. "She seems quite pleasing to you. Young, healthy, attractive. Have you thought about making a long-term commitment?" _

_Jon lowered his voice. "What do you mean … like marriage?  
_

_"I mean exactly marriage." _

_He sighed. "I've known her a week. Seems like a short time." _

_She lowered her voice further. "Who was the last woman you felt this way about?" _

_It seemed like a trick question really. The answer was painful to everyone: T'Pol. And he'd felt this way from almost the instant he'd met her. Well, maybe not the instant, but certainly within a few months or so. _

_He shrugged. _

_"I've never seen you this interested in a woman since … Rajiin?" she said. _

_Archer winced. That had turned out badly. _

_"Jonathan, you would be an excellent father. She seems to bring you contentment. It doesn't seem unreasonable for you to take her as a wife." _

_"Haven't you heard captains are always married to their ships?" he asked. Giving a teasing grin, he nabbed one of the carrots from a bowl. _

_"No. It must be some strange human custom I am unaware of," T'Pol said. "Vulcan captains are married … to other Vulcans." _

_As Archer was about to respond, Trip decided to bring the two back into the conversation. "I hope you two are about done. Esilia and I are hungry." _

_T'Pol answered, walking the short distance into the living room, "Human men are demanding aren't they, Esilia?" _

_The blonde watched Jon and said with a sly smile, "Not too much." _

_Archer grinned back and walked a few dishes into the living room. The Tuckers didn't do many things using Vulcan traditions, except for dinner. Trip kind of enjoyed sitting on the floor Indian style with his shoes off. For formal people, he was surprised this was the way Vulcans ate. Showing Esilia how it was done, he puffed up a few pillows and let himself fall down with Lorian in his lap. The boy barely made a noise as Trip chirped. _

_"I swear I'm gonna find something that makes this little guy sing in delight." _

_Esilia sat down next to Trip, completely at ease in the situation. Archer and T'Pol sat down next as they continued to chat. The captain's friends asked her every question they could think of – where she grew up, what she did, how she liked being a pilot and eventually how she met Archer. _

_On that particular subject, the Ikarran wasn't shy, not that she was shy anyway. "I thought he was beautiful. Why wouldn't I … what did you say Trip … hit on him?" _

_Trip laughed, Archer seemed somewhat embarrassed by the admission and T'Pol watched on. _

_"That's pretty much what happened with T'Pol and me. She hit on me." _

_T'Pol looked up. "I don't recall that at all. In fact, I remember Sim …." _

_"Well, honey, but that was Sim." _

_Archer loved the good-natured ribbing of the two, but didn't want to hear the story again, especially because it brought up a painful time in all three of their lives – when he'd cloned his friend and when T'Pol had been addicted to Trellium. Well, everything had turned out okay in the end …. Hadn't it? Had it? _

_Maybe that's one of the things that always bothered him about the relationship between his two friends – it was based on a drug addiction; one that had nearly killed her aboard the Selaya. Why would she insist on taking it after? He'd never understood; maybe he never would. T'Pol probably didn't understand either. _

_In talking with her months later, she'd confessed to being addicted not to the drug itself, but **emotion**. The captain found it hard to believe she would be eager to have feelings, especially since Vulcans fought their entire lives to suppress them. More likely, she enjoyed feeling for Trip and vice versa. After a difficult few months trying to fight the drug and its effects, she turned to her two best friends for assistance. Well, she turned to one for assistance and one as her captain. _

_If he'd been a little more open and available, maybe she would've turned to him as her friend. Maybe he would've assisted her, held her hand and explained all the emotions humans feel and why. Instead, he'd badgered her about it – disappointed and angry at her lack of control, agreed to let her have time off to work through the remnants of the addiction, worked to get supplies to treat her and other things necessary from a **captain**. Trip got to assist her with the emotions themselves. _

_Seeing the couple continue to banter back and forth and watching Esilia look on in confusion, Archer decided to join in -- it'd become their routine. _

_"Esilia, you'll have to forgive them. They've been married for a while," he said, teasingly, as an excuse. _

_"Do married people always argue?" she asked, innocently. _

_Jon smiled at thinking someone would see the two as arguing or not getting along. Well, actually he felt that way at times. In response, Trip's jaw went slack and T'Pol raised her eyebrow – obviously befuddled at the interpretation. _

_"Sometimes," Archer answered as diplomatically as possible. _

_Trip chuckled lightly, realizing some people didn't quite understand the relationship he had with his wife. She noticed the twinkling in his eyes and held up two fingers, which he took with enthusiasm, while the captain glanced down at his plate for a moment. _

_Within a few beats their fingers drifted apart and T'Pol began to clear the dishes away, as Esilia, Trip and Jon all stood to offer assistance. Esilia headed off in the Vulcan's direction before the men could do anything, and Trip seemed pleased; he wanted to talk with Jon anyway. _

_"Heck of a nice girl. Friendly. Pretty. So, you gonna ask her to stay?" Trip questioned. _

_Archer noticed the conversation was louder than he would've liked. He lowered his voice. "I don't know. Your wife said maybe I should." _

_The engineer grinned. "I think she's right." _

_"That doesn't happen very often," Archer chided. _

_"Well, except when she said 'yes' to me. And gave birth to this little beggar here," said Trip nodding to his son who smiled back at him. As the captain chuckled, Trip became a little more serious. "You've been grinning, whistling and walking around like this is the best thing that ever happened to you. I think you'd be making a big mistake if you didn't ask her to stay." _

_"I don't know, Trip. I mean, I've thought about being married, but …." _

_Trip's face grew serious and he lowered his voice more. "No offense, Jon, but she might be about it." _

_Archer didn't have to inquire further; he knew exactly what Trip meant, and the thought was a little depressing – but was probably true. All the women on the ship, especially T'Pol, were off-limits to him – not necessarily because of the command structure – they were all married, pregnant or both. The ship ran into precious few aliens over the course of their journey. _

_He'd been falling in love with Esilia ever since their first "date," but getting married was a lot different. _

_Trip's statement caused him to pause and stare at the ground. _

_"I'd hate to miss being Uncle Trip to all those little ridge-nosed Archers." _

_The captain continued to furrow his brow, lost in thought as the girls rejoined them. _

_"Well, Esilia, I think you're just about the nicest woman Jon's ever brought home. And, I've known the guy close to 15 years." _

_"Thank you, Trip. You know, I would almost say you're Ikarran – gregarious, free-spirited." _

_Trip grinned and turned to Jon pointing a finger at her. "I think I'm liking her more and more by the second." _

_Before Trip could do any more damage, Archer stood and made excuses to call it a night – he wanted to properly wish Esilia goodbye. In his mind, despite what his friends had said, he'd worked out all the particulars and seemed set on leaving without her. Somewhere in the recesses of his brain, that seemed the only avenue that made sense; he'd been denying himself happiness so long, maybe it was a reflex. _

_As Esilia had stepped into the hallway and Jon's foot crossed the threshold, T'Pol grasped his arm and said, "I hope you consider what we've talked about." _

_Archer got the distinct impression she knew he was planning on severing the relationship. _

_"I'd like to see you as satisfied as Trip and I are." _

_He stared into her eyes and knew she was speaking from the heart … wherever that was on a Vulcan. T'Pol and Trip's marriage, their baby … everything … everything she seemed to indicate in her life was perfect. Silently, he chastised himself. He never wanted to come between the two, but couldn't really stop loving or caring about her. After her marriage and Lorian's birth, his thoughts had wandered away from thinking about her sexually … not that he didn't still find her attractive. Instead he'd adored her from a far, veiled in friendship and a command structure. _

_It was peculiar to be falling in love with one woman, and yet still completely caught up in another – especially one that would never return it. _

_'**Never **return it,' he thought to himself, and he wouldn't want her to. _

_And that was that. _

_Suddenly while walking down the hall he thought maybe being with Esilia and having children wouldn't be so bad after all. He was very fond of Lorian and enjoyed spending time with the boy. Once a long time ago, he wanted to have children and teach them about astronomy. And as for Esilia, she was more than compatible – she enjoyed sports (understanding the basics of water polo already), piloting, fiddling with engineering components, space …. The woman was absolutely breath taking to look at and had a way of making him laugh. She had a wonderful sense of humor, wore her heart on her sleeve and was chatty – a perfect companion. He was falling in love with her anyway, being in love with her was only really less than a step away … and he was certain he could love her. _

_"Your friends are nice," she commented. _

_As he rounded the corner to his cabin, he gathered her in his arms for a moment. _

_"Maybe you should stay a little longer," he whispered. _

_"You'll be leaving tomorrow," she said. Her eyes twinkled as if he'd told a joke. _

_"I don't want you to stay just tonight." _

_She wrapped her hand around his and walked into his room. As they entered she didn't seem particularly interested in the details of what that meant, she just wanted to be with him. Archer could tell that her lips and tongue longed to be near him and that sparked the same desire. As their mouths met, he realized he was going to ask her; her lips on his and her body against his felt too good to allow her to leave. _

_'Why not? I'd be an idiot not to,' he thought. The idea gave him a rush and also confused him. _

_"Esilia, I mean it … I'd like you to stay," he whispered against her lips. _

_"Jonathan, you're in love with her," she said. _

_"Her?" he asked. He knew who she meant. _

_"You're in love with her. It's written all over your face." _

_A furrow worked itself onto his brow. "I don't understand." _

_A hand smoothed his face of wrinkles and she whispered, "What's peculiar is the way you feel about me is written there, too." _

_"Listen, I don't …," he began. _

_She interrupted, "You desire me. You want me to stay with you. You want to have children with me." _

_"Yes," he whispered and then kissed her lips. _

_Her fingers began working at the buttons on his shirt and the two disrobed each other quickly and effortlessly. After touching his lips to as much of her as he could, he began whispering to her as a lover does embarrassed to say the words. _

_"Marry me," he said. _

_"I want you all to myself," she said. _

_"I'm yours. There's no one else." _

_Reaching underneath his hair and staring into his eyes, she said, "Tell me again." _

_"I'm yours, Esilia." _

_A few important things came out of that night: a marriage only three days later, a birth exactly seven months later – the full gestation for Ikarrans – and the fulfillment of his promise. From the moment his words uttered his love for her, there was no one else; his feelings and emotions for T'Pol settled back into the love he had for a friend without the romantic complications … until Esilia died. _

Back in the moment, Archer snapped himself out of it. If he was remembering Esilia, he wondered if T'Pol ruminated about Trip. It was hard to be married to someone for years, and then suddenly have her gone; it was difficult to be with someone new and not think of the previous relationship.

_Marriage._

"You're staring again," T'Pol said, clearing reading material off her bed.

"I have that habit, don't I? I was just thinking how beautiful you are."

Her hand caressed his cheek as his eyes closed. "What did you and Esilia do romantically?" T'Pol asked. As his eyes flashed open, she clarified her intent. "Not in that respect."

He gave a sly smile. Truthfully, with Esilia there was really never a dull moment, or a quiet one. He thought back to their activities and presented a bashful grin. Esilia loved watching movies, sporting events, seeing photos of his family and Earth, talking about camping and the stars and reading. Sometimes, during the quiet of being in bed – romantically or near sleep, he'd read to her. They were poems he'd already memorized from his mother or from school. In the darkness his voice would whisper into the stillness of the room as she closed her eyes to imagine the words and his reading.

"Ah, you'll think it's corny."

"Corny?" asked the Vulcan.

"Silly."

"I understand the word. What did you do?" she asked.

Almost afraid to utter the words, he sighed and decided he was letting her see him naked, he might as well tell her something more intimate.

"I read her poety," Archer mumbled.

T'Pol's eyes lit up. "Why would that be silly? I quite enjoy dramatic readings. I haven't participated in one since I was approximately 40." She paused.

"Reading only or do you have these memorized?"

"I guess … memorized," he said.

"May I hear one?"

This was exactly what he was afraid of, but like a trouper he searched his mind for the right one to deliver. He settled on something sweet, but romantic.

"She walks in beauty like the night,

Of cloudless climes and starry skies,

And all that's best of dark and bright,

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light.

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies."

"Lord Byron – quite lovely."

Impressed, he said, "How'd you know?"

She responded by continuing the poem.

"One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress

Or softly lightens o'er her face,

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place."

"T'Pol, I had no idea."

"In the past 18 years, I've read nearly everything in the database. Some things more than once."

He chuckled, "Me, too. I think I've read the complete works of Surak … three times."

"I was unaware."

"I began reading it the night you sent it to me … when I was on vacation on Risa."

She raised her eyebrow. "Why did you read it?"

"I love to read … and … I wanted to try and understand you a little bit better, I thought the gesture was generous, and, well … truthfully … I wanted to impress you."

Her mouth nibbled on his for a moment. "Really? You never mentioned you read it. I even offered to answer questions about it, hoping you had at least perused it."

"That's one of the reasons I read it twice. Some of the concepts were a bit … difficult to fathom, at least for an Earther. I didn't want to appear foolish."

T'Pol gathered his hands in hers and began leading him toward the bed. "Why would you want to impress me?"

They sat down together. He shrugged. Did he have a crush on her back then? Maybe. Although, he suspected it started after being kidnapped and tied up with her, he began to start smiling when he thought of her.

"I felt like I could use a couple of 'wins' with you. I wanted to know more of what you knew. And, I guess, I was already developing a … crush."

She lay down on the bed, lying on her back and Archer joined her, lying on his stomach.

"A crush?" she asked.

His finger twirled in her hair and beamed. "You begin to like someone as more than a friend, but it's not quite love. If you have a crush on someone, it's usually from afar."

"That long?" she asked.

No, before then. Maybe he developed those feelings ever since they were kidnapped by Andorians on P'Jem. Glaring, he'd watched one of them, Shran's right-hand man, come onto her. He'd already wanted to punch the captor, after that he'd wanted to do worse. Maybe ever since he saw her in the medical facility in San Francisco. She seemed snobby, rude, brash, assuming and beautiful – exotically so. He'd never seen an attractive Vulcan woman, but as she strolled down the hall and then challenged him, regardless of her youth, he was awed. So much so, that despite his own prejudices about Vulcans, he was attracted to her.

Working her mouth on his neck, she asked, "So when did this blossom to love?"

There wasn't a day that he decided he was in love with her. Instead, his crush seemed to develop in severity. After a painful discussion with Phlox when he was staying in Sickbay to keep an eye on Porthos, he had an erotic dream about her. He wasn't really sure he had a crush on her until that moment. And, after that, it was difficult not to think about her without becoming aroused and enamored of her. But, maybe it wasn't until he realized she was ill with Pa'nar Syndrome that he had to admit it wasn't just an attraction to a friend – it was something more. Something he'd personally hoped would go away, especially after the Xindi's attack on Earth.

"Hard to say," he whispered.

"I wish you would've told me."

He thought his subconscious had given her every clue she needed and then some. They were together now, and that was all that really mattered.

"At one time, I returned many of those feelings," she said.

His heart beat faster in his chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I believed I had. When your friend, A.G., died, I went with you to explore the dark matter."

"You said you wanted to ensure I was following regulations. Besides, you're my science officer."

"After you found out about the Xindi's attack on Earth, I followed _you_ into the Expanse, not Enterprise."

"I thought that was loyalty. You told me I needed you, but as captain."

"Loyalty? Soval has been my mentor for many years; I did not choose to stay on Earth. Jonathan, I chose _you,_" she said, quietly.

"What happened?"

"You changed."

He had. The mission was grueling on his psyche. He wasn't sure how many crewmembers knew it, but he didn't think they'd find the weapon, save Earth or even make it out alive. He'd devoted every minute to the task, examining information, checking ideas and wondering about their fate. If _he_ had anything to do about it, he'd come back with all his crewmen and news of a destroyed weapon. But, already that task had proven impossible.

"Trip opened his heart to me and I … fell in love with him. I needed him."

He wished he would've opened his heart to her, especially if he'd known, but his heart was set on saving Earth. Focus, drive, duty, obligation and determination _made _him Jonathan Archer. It helped him succeed at the academy, reach commander at such a young age and win command of Enterprise. It had also lost him more than a few girlfriends, friends and acquaintances along the way, caused at least one fist fight (with his friend A.G.) and probably was why no one had spoken to him about his reckless behavior, loss of weight and the large bags under his eyes during the earlier days in the Expanse. It was that same determination that pressed T'Pol to find a way out of their predicament even 18 years after being trapped in the past.

His nose brushed against hers like he might do with his daughter – playfully and lovingly; it surprised him that she returned the gesture. After gazing into her eyes for a few moments, he switched positions and lay on his back. Grabbing her hand, he stared at the ceiling.

"Jonathan?"

"Yes?"

She scooted onto her side and looked at his profile for a moment. "You were in love with me when we first entered the Expanse?"

"Yes."

That idea confused her. He was snappish, aggravated and angry all the time – putting the kybosh on movie nights and anything that wasn't Xindi-related. Driven would be the perfect word to describe him, but she had no idea the unhealthy level it could soar to or had already reached. Occasionally, when he thought he'd worked out how they would suddenly travel into the future and be restored to the present time, he demonstrated the same motivation.

For a moment, he enjoyed her staring at him. He brought her small frame into his arms and clarified, rolling her on top of him.

"I was crazy about you. I couldn't leave you behind on the Selaya," he said.

"Nor did you leave me behind on a planet. And you didn't line the hull with trellium. I understand Trip was concerned about that."

Slipping his hands around her waist, he held her at his lap and gently wrapped his fingers at her collar to bring her lips to his.

Eager to kiss him back, but unwilling to let this line of reasoning end, she questioned him in between kisses.

"You responded to me … my voice … when we had transformed into the Loque'eque. Hoshi and Malcolm didn't recognize me."

His hands slid under her shirt. "Yes. I wanted you. I trusted you. I kept pushing out doubt."

"When I asked you not to die on Azati Prime?" she asked. "I tried to follow you there."

"You tried to follow me? I didn't know."

Sensing she was about to ask something else, he decided to silence her. "Come here," he cooed. His lips were begging to be kissed.

She bent down and his tongue parted her lips with a light groan. With each kiss, his mouth and tongue became greedier.

Lifting herself from the onslaught of his lips. "The day you saved my leg from the beam, I was afraid you'd died."

He worked her blouse off, showing off something that made him smile – her gray undershirt – the one she wore before they'd entered the Expanse in Decon.

"Mild concussion."

"Not mild."

"Not _that _bad," he said.

"When you came back from Azati Prime, covered in contusions and …," she began.

"T'Pol," he interrupted. "That was the past. I just wasn't sure what I should say or whether I should say anything. And, maybe I was too focused on finding the Xindi … I managed to shove pretty much everything and everyone out of my life."

Her face was riddled with confusion and she stared at him wondering why he'd never mentioned anything before. Although he hadn't mentioned anything, neither had she; she'd always assumed they were friends. When Sim opened his heart to her, she leapt at the possibility of something she'd read about and heard of -- love. It was what ultimately led her to taking trellium – the desire to be loved.

He dragged her to meet his lips and rolled on top of her. Rather than continue to give her loving embraces, he wanted to make them more serious and fiery. Moaning into her throat, his lips became more demanding.

"You indicated you wished it was more leisurely," she said.

"It's about 2000. I think we have a while," he whispered. Her eyes widened at the statement as his seared her skin. As if to concede, she wrapped her fingers around the bottom of his shirt and began to pull it off of him.

Though wanton, he was insistent on holding back his urgency. It was his primary goal to stare at her, kiss her and learn all the nuances of how she wanted to be touched. Testing this, he nibbled on her left ear – first at the earlobe and then the tip. When his mouth encircled the pointed end and his tongue flicked against it, he felt her writhe under him. Carefully, his lips paced themselves to her neck. After getting a mild response, he gently bit at her throat, which caused her to hiss. Leaving the more exciting parts of her body for later, his lips caressed her arms, wrists, hands and fingers. Out of all those, she whimpered when he kissed her fingertips. After teasing her by lovingly gnawing on each one, she gave a faint gasp – something she hadn't done in some time.

"I want you," she whispered.

Ignoring her plea, he kissed her stomach and his tongue dipped into her navel. He noted that her bellybutton didn't seem to get a rise out of her and raised her hip slightly, guiding her onto her stomach. His lips, teeth and tongue worked up her back as she shivered. A light groan escaped her lips as his teeth gently grabbed at the skin on the back of her neck. Working her out of her slacks, he kissed up and down her legs, lapped at the souls of her feet and took her toes into his mouth to bite them. As he rolled her onto her back, he raked his teeth against her fingers.

As if being tickled, she squirmed under him. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked huskily. Knowing it would strike a nerve, he rolled his tongue along the tip of her index finger as she jumped a little under him.

Seeing another question form on her face, he said, "I just want to spend time caressing you. I want to make you feel good."

She ran her hand down his chest. "I want that for you too."

Pushing up her gray undershirt he whispered. "This feels great. I've been wanting to do this."

Storing all these things in his memory was highly satisfying. It wasn't just touching her and showing he loved her, it was seeing her enjoy it. She satisfied his soul by leaning into his caresses and returning his feelings – maybe not to the depth he felt them, but enough … enough to make him kiss every inch of her.

**Chapter 20 **

T'Pol awoke with a small start and blinked; she'd left all the candles burning. Trip used to scold her saying she was going to set Enterprise ablaze, and then he would grumble and blow each one of them out. He'd been so amusing about the whole ordeal, she'd occasionally done it purposefully to watch him chide and tease her.

But, Jonathan was unaware of the world, sleeping peacefully. There was enough light that she could see every wrinkle around his eyes and mouth. She wanted to trace them lightly with her finger, but decided against it. It would wake him, and he looked so serene and at ease. She wondered whether the sensation would cause him to laugh, as it might've Trip or would've sparked him toward passion.

Curious.

Emotions had always fascinated her. She'd been trying to determine Jonathan's for some time. Although she was well versed on his expressions, she gathered what was on his face merely scratched the surface of feeling. And many times, his face was blank – as if devoid of emotion.

_She'd been worried about him ever since the funeral. It seemed he was martyring himself as he was prone to do. He attempted to cheer others up at Esilia's wake, including comforting his children who cried uncontrollably. After the service, when Henry and Elyssa were in bed, she'd offered to watch them for a moment, hoping to provide him a little time alone. But, Archer steadfastly declined – as he was never going to wish his wife goodbye. He remained almost Vulcan-like in his refusal to accept his feelings or possibly even the circumstance itself. _

_On the one-year anniversary of his wife's death, she and Trip had been asked to watch Henry and Elyssa for the third week in a row. Trip was angry at the captain for the way he dealt with things – which meant not dealing them. The engineer had tried to get his friend to open up … to no avail. But, the most damning evidence came when Elyssa, who didn't remember her mother, asked endless questions about the woman to T'Pol one night. _

_"Why don't you ask your father?" T'Pol repeated. _

_"He doesn't like to talk about her," Henry answered. _

_"What color was her hair?" Elyssa asked. _

_T'Pol sighed. "Like yours, perhaps yours is even blonder." _

_"Was she tall?" Elyssa asked. _

_"She was taller than me. Slightly shorter than Trip," T'Pol said. _

_"Did he love her?" Elyssa asked, sticking out her lip. _

_"Of course. You should ask your father these questions." _

_"He doesn't like to talk about her," Henry said again. _

_For some unknown explanation, Elyssa began to let little tears trickle down her face. T'Pol picked her up, put her into her lap and caressed her hair. _

_"Don't fret," T'Pol said. _

_The little girl buried her face into T'Pol's shoulder and cried. The Vulcan glanced at Trip from across the room as her spouse shook his head. He picked up Henry and hugged the boy to him. _

_"Now, your father loved her a lot. He's just having a tough time with her death, although he won't admit it. He's kinda stubborn that way." Like a man weaving a magical tale, he decided to speak again and cheer the kids up. "Did I ever tell you about my trips to Jupiter?" _

_Spellbound, Lorian, Elyssa and Henry listened. T'Pol set Elyssa onto the couch and decided she was going to talk with the captain right away. She understood the man was having difficulty coping, but he needed to face facts – his children were suffering and she wasn't going to stand for it another minute. _

_Marching down corridors, she tried to steady her emotions. Although she was not overly emotional, this situation called up her maternal instincts. After gaining entrance to see him, she tried to reason with him. As the conversation continued, she could see his eyes were pained, but he dismissed his emotions – at least those buried underneath the surface. Unwilling to back down, T'Pol continued to chip away at him. _

_Archer finally yelled, "You don't know what it's like!" _

_She didn't, not at that time. Instead of allowing him to turn inward she reached out to him, almost with the same loving care she would Trip or her son. At her touch, he withered a little – sagging his shoulders and lowering his eyes. It was difficult to watch the man accept her feeble offer of support and begin to crumble. _

_The Vulcan did something against her nature, but something she felt was necessary to do – awkwardly, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, drawing the man into a hug. As soon as he was enveloped in her arms, he hung his head limply onto her shoulder. And when she tightened her hold, reassuring him, he began to weep huskily and clutched at her like he was clinging to life itself. His voice grew silent quickly, but for several minutes she felt tiny droplets of water collect at her neck. _

_As she stood there, she thought – watching Jonathan completely break down was one of the most moving experiences she'd had, following her marriage to Trip, Trip's death and the birth of her son. Entangled in the moment, but afraid to ruin it, she remained still and fought the urge to cry herself, caress his face or hair, or speak softly like she would Lorian when he had managed to skin his knee. Instead she reflected on why the experience was moving: Jonathan Archer never cried. Never. _

_Trip wept easily and readily – during sad movies, sometimes in arguments with her and with happiness at the birth of their son. With emotional agility, he always recovered easily and quickly. She'd deduced that by frequent communication of how he felt, he was able to understand and accept his emotions. In fact, humans in general had that knack – she'd seen every single other crewmen cry (even Reed). _

_Throughout the years of serving with him, she'd seen Jonathan become misty-eyed or hurt, but he always swallowed his emotions and continued onward, ignoring deeper feelings. She'd never, in all her years of serving as his first officer, seen him allow tears to reach his cheeks … and now his face and her neck and shoulders were soaked with them. _

_When he regained his control, he stepped away, exhaled and focused his attention on the deck plating. _

_"I'm sorry," he mumbled. _

_"Why?" she asked. _

_He cleared his throat and nodded, staring down. _

_"You're my friend. Isn't this what they do? Comfort each other?" she asked, thinking he'd done so with her before. _

_Lamely, his head nodded weakly. _

_She said, "You're right. I don't know what it's like to lose a spouse. However, being Vulcan, I'll outlive Trip by somewhere close to 80 years. So, I'll eventually find out." She paused. "I do know it must be painful." _

_His countenance remained unchanged as she watched him trying to get a handle on his emotional collapse; he seemed unwilling or unable to speak. _

_Leaving a tinge of emotion in her voice, she admitted. "I'm honored you felt you could share that with me." _

_He continued to remain silent and still. Feeling a little uneasy, she said, "I hope you … feel better?" _

_For a moment her hand reached out into thin air, nearly stroking his salt and peppered hair. Rather than do so, she placed it on his shoulder, sparking a bit of him to life. _

_He rubbed his hand over his face and cleared his throat again. With a light snort he answered her. _

_"If you call feeling exhausted, guilty and embarrassed better, then I guess I'm getting there." _

_Humor. Archer frequently used it to ease difficult moments and this usually meant he was okay. _

_Staring after her a moment, he admitted, "Maybe I should go get Elyssa and Henry." _

_With that, she walked with him silently to her cabin, wanting to pat his back or give him some kind of encouragement, but wondering which one. Although she'd shown Jonathan emotions before, she was not accustomed to them and mostly felt confused about which ones to reveal and how. Showing Trip was easy, he was relaxed and comfortable with his own feelings; Jonathan rarely ever was. _

The memory roused her sleeping partner and he lifted his head up. Gray hairs askew, he glanced around her room.

"What are you trying to do, burn the place down?" he asked, jokingly, nodding to the candles.

T'Pol's eyebrow rose against her forehead. "I believe I attempted to get up once, but you wouldn't let me."

He smiled and nuzzled her neck. "How long was I asleep?"

"Only a half hour."

His lips entreated hers as she broke the connection. She peeked at the clock, noting it was only a little before midnight. Leaning over, she slowly began to kiss his neck, noting it tasted like salt. Planting small kisses along his throat, he fidgeted beside her -- ticklish.

As if to add it to her memory, she said, "You like that."

"It's nice," he agreed. His hands reached out for her as she took them into her mouth, nibbling on them as he'd done for her. At the feel of her lips on his fingers he groaned.

Kissing up his arm and around his shoulders made him sigh. Licking his navel made him hiss and writhe. She felt his fingers weaving through her hair as her mouth and teeth danced up his chest.

"Come here," he whispered, hoping to kiss her.

"It's your turn to be patient," she said.


	9. The Very Thought of You

Nothing but Time Part 9: The Very Thought of You 

The next day was luxurious -- bliss itself. The two did exactly what they wanted: slept late; talked about old times, the present (including their children), and the future; kissed deeply and soulfully; held hands; played footsie; and snuggled under the covers. Delivering tender love bites to her shoulders, he whispered how much he'd always adored the curve and point of her ear … and she teased him back.

"I've always known about your … infatuation with my ears," she said, curling into him as if he were a warm blanket.

The one thing that astounded them both was how easy it was to fall into a relationship – a romantic one. They'd been such good friends for so long that taking that bond one step further felt completely natural … as if it was always that way. In a way it was.

He showed a side of himself he hadn't bothered to unearth in years – a man who wanted to cradle a woman in his arms, hear her whisper to him small tokens of affection and recline lazily and sleepily … as if caught up in a day dream.

Musing about life, he ruminated on making her happy (strange that Vulcans eschewed those emotions) … actually that had been his goal for as long as he could remember being her friend, even when it was painful – even when it involved watching her marry Trip … even when it meant performing the union.

_Something in him made him want to see the bride before the wedding– not the lame excuse he had actually used to see her – to see if she was ready. From the rehearsals and discussions, he knew she was. _

_As the door to her quarters slid back, it revealed T'Pol staring at her reflection in the mirror. _

_"You look nice," he said. _

_A peaked eyebrow answered him as she fastened the belt around her long flowing red robe, knotting it as he imagined traditional Japanese women did in the 19th or 20th century. _

_"Thank you," she responded. _

_Staring at herself, she put the finishing touches to her makeup until she noticed his gaze and stopped her primping. _

_"Captain, what brings you here?" T'Pol asked. _

_"The wedding's about to start … I just wanted to make sure you were ready." _

_Phlox, who was giving the bride away, intervened. "Yes, Captain, everything is prepared." The doctor picked up a wooden-square contraption that held hundreds of tiny cymbals and shook it gingerly, as if to prove his readiness. _

_"Malcolm didn't send you, did he? He has been concerned about these events all week," T'Pol said, suddenly growing wary. _

_Archer smiled. "No, not Lt. Reed." He straightened for a minute. "You're not nervous are you?" _

_A hand dodged over her hair with trepidation that any human could pick up on. _

_"Of course not," she whispered. "Vulcans do not become anxious." _

_The captain rewarded her with a lopsided grin. _

_Suddenly a harried tactical officer barged into T'Pol's quarters that now appeared cramped. _

_"Captain, I didn't see you in the cargo bay. Everything all right?" the Brit asked, near panic. _

_"Everything's fine Lieutenant, I just wanted to see if T'Pol was ready and … wish her good luck," Archer said. _

_As the captain was about to turn around, a hand carefully snaked around his and squeezed lightly. Stunned he met her gaze. _

_"I do not need luck. Though I think you might. Your pronunciation last night at the rehearsal was atrocious," she said, allowing her eyes to smile. _

_Archer wrapped his hand around hers and held it for a moment as he earnestly replied that his attempt at a Vulcan accent was better than Trip's, which T'Pol could only agree with – allowing her eyes to sparkle at the memory. Their hands fell apart and he sneaked one last look at her before she became T'Pol Tucker. _

_Malcolm looked down at his wrist with frustration. "It's a half-past!" _

_There was no doubt that Malcolm Reed took the duties of best man more seriously than anything other than the ship's armory. Phlox jingled his bells at the comment, obviously enjoying them too much, and T'Pol stood gracefully showing she was prepared. _

_"Is the officiator ready?" she asked. _

_Archer grabbed at his high collar, wanting to scratch his neck and nodded. Without further ado, he made his way down the hall, swinging his long black coat behind him, while Reed followed at his heel. Both men climbed through the crowd of people in the bay and up the piles of sand strewn across the room that had managed to get into everyone's shoes. _

_Plodding to the platform that all the guests faced, Malcolm took his place on the structure and Archer bent over to pick up a stick. Formality crept across his face as he heaved it against a gong made of discarded Engineering parts. A hushed silence fell over the room and his hand made the metal clang again -- calling both wedding parties to the stand. _

_Phlox strolled in, barefoot, shaking cymbals that tinned the ear and leading the Vulcan to the front of the room. Phlox gave an overextended beam, held up his hand in a Vulcan greeting and bowed deeply – serving his part as giving the bride away. T'Pol performed the same custom and watched him walk away, letting her eyes shine at her mentor and friend. _

_Struggling to keep calm, Trip entered the area and trudged through the sand, past the palm tree and onto the platform. When his foot touched the flat surface, he and T'Pol locked eyes and then looked up at Archer expectantly. _

_Nervously, Jon began the first part, hoping he didn't butcher the language too badly. _

_"T'Pol, nam-tor wak vah yut s'vesht na'fa'wak heh pla'rak. Nam pon, kun-ut kal'i'farr il kun-ut kal'i'fee?" _

_As requested, he then said the words in English, "There is a saying from Surak: Time is a path from the past to the future and back again. Apropos. This time, is it the place of a marriage union or a place of a marriage challenge?" _

_"Kali-farr," she responded. "A marriage union." _

_Phlox shook his bells as Trip smiled at his bride. _

_"Rom," Archer said. (Good.) He already knew that Vulcan word, even though it was off-script. And he fumbled through the rest of his lines, hoping he didn't embarrass T'Pol as he filled the role of pastor (from Trip's religion) and officiator (according to ancient Vulcan ways). _

_Trip stumbled his way through practiced Vulcan sayings, speaking them with heartfelt joy – a frozen smile planted on his face as if scared and excited. T'Pol was calm and serene as if the ceremony was only a logical event for feelings she'd already allowed to germinate. _

_Each said a few things for the other, oaths they would carry to the grave. _

_"I never expected someone like you to enter my life, beloved," she whispered and pushed a band onto his middle finger. _

_Trip spoke a few words of Vulcan that Hoshi obviously assisted with and then slipped a band onto her finger. True to the engineer, the words were sweet, funny and romantic – amusing and satisfying the throngs of people in the bay and touching the bride. _

_"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," Archer whispered. _

_A few "Awwws" rang out in the crowd as the two touched lips – something they'd never seen T'Pol do before, and something Archer wondered if Vulcans did before practicing for this ceremony. _

_"Ladies and gentlemen – Mr. and Mrs. Charles Tucker III," Archer announced. _

_Phlox shook the small contraptions of cymbals, as was the Vulcan custom, and walked in front of them through the sand while the humans clapped. Trip raised two fingers and led his wife out to the Mess Hall. _

_As the people filed out and to the reception, Archer's shoulders relaxed a little. _

_'One down, one to go,' he thought to himself. _

_Marching into the reception, he shook the hand of the groom and drew him into a small hug, clapping him on the back and wondered what the devil to do with the bride. _

_"Congratulations," he said, deciding to give her a light kiss on the cheek. When his lips left her face, his mind focused on a stiff drink as the two received the next guest. _

_Champagne had been popped – something Archer had been saving up for a while, but thought would be nice at all the weddings taking place, as well as wine, scotch and bourbon. He crossed over to the self-service bar and poured himself a short glass of scotch. Making his way to a table to sit alone, he stared into the crystal and contemplated life and change. Trip and T'Pol weren't the first couple to get married, but they were one of the first in a long line of couples asking the captain to wed them. _

_Usually, a captain's greatest duty was to perform weddings. It was ironic that a pleasant duty had become a cumbersome task. Rather than brood and mope in public, which he was prone to do, he decided to just sit quietly and force a small smile onto his face, in case anyone asked questions. Slumping only slightly in his chair, he let the couple enjoy the limelight. Reflecting on his friends, his eyes drifted back to his drink, quickly draining it as he thought about the future. _

_"You look like you're at a funeral," T'Pol said. _

_He didn't see her creep up, but was surprised at her comment – after all he had a smile on his face. _

_"What makes you say that?" he asked, forcing mirth into his voice. _

_"You're sitting alone," she answered. _

_"Nah," he responded. "Just pensive. I married two people I care a lot about." Running his fingers along the side of his glass, he twirled the tumbler in his hands and stared at it. Lifting the amber liquid to his lips, he let the alcohol slide down his throat and then shoved the rest down. _

_"Thank you for performing the ceremony." She paused watching his face become riddled with lines. "I was perhaps unfair earlier – your Vulcan accent has improved." _

_His smile turned more genuine. "I think your husband's has too." _

_"Yes," she said. Her fingers cradled a glass of champagne, almost as if wrapped around mug Vulcan tea. "I was … disappointed … you could not be my … what is the name of that position?" _

_"Maid of honor," he said. The very idea made him ticklish and he grinned more broadly. He teased, letting his mind wander on playing the typical human maid of honor, "I think it's just as well." _

_"Still, I would've liked you at my side." _

_'You have no idea,' he thought. Chef, who was now doubling as bartender, produced a new glass of scotch, which Archer was glad to welcome. _

_Nearly placing her lips to the alcohol she was unaccustomed to drinking, she said, "Here's to friends." _

_He countered her toast, "Here's to the bride." _

_As she was about to drink, he clinked her glass, hovered his own beverage near his mouth and shut his eyes. The warm liquid slid down his esophagus, traveling down to his stomach and rushed around his body in sweet silence. When his eyes opened, he saw her staring at him with curiosity. _

_"Are you certain nothing's troubling you?" she asked. _

_"We've been through a lot together. I never thought I'd feel this way about a Vulcan, but you're one of my dearest friends, T'Pol," he said. As she raised an eyebrow at his comment, he added, "Your happiness is important to me." _

_She remained quiet. _

_Looking into his empty glass he asked, "Are you happy?" _

_He saw her working through the question about an emotion, and then heard her deliver an honest answer. _

_"Yes," she replied with puzzlement. _

_Nodding at the statement he felt his heart grow dull and heavy. _

_Gazing into her eyes for a moment, he questioned whether she would ever really know how he felt. Now that she was married, he would keep it that way, especially since she was wed to his friend. In a funny way, Trip entering her life hadn't really changed the nature of their relationship. But, remarkably, he never really expected it to – he never questioned that she'd be there for him in every way she was always there for him. _

_Trip wandered over to his wife and wrapped his arm around her waist, cozying into her. The three talked about the ceremony, speaking in Vulcan and the ridiculous palm tree Trip had insisted on making, and then the Tuckers said their goodnights to everyone and left the party to enjoy their honeymoon. _

_When the two walked away, the party drew to an inevitable close and Archer silently made his way back to his room and pulled up a song he hadn't heard in years. Just looking at it on his database reminded him of drinking too much at the 602 Club more than a few times – like after Caroline and Erika left him – and playing a couple of sad songs on the old fashioned juke box. _

_Sucking down some scotch, he called up the music: Billie Holiday's haunting melody – Stormy Weather. Enjoying a good mope, he lay down on his bed and murmured the lyrics. If anyone deserved to sing the blues today, it was him. _

_"Tell me why, there's no sun up in the sky – Stormy Weather," he whispered as Porthos cowered his head and furrowed a doggie brow. _

Remembering this, he nudged a few buttons on T'Pol's console and music filled her cabin: Billie Holiday. Playing languidly in the background, he enjoyed the simple melody and sang softly in her ear.

"The very thought of you," he sang musically and softly. "And I forget to do those little ordinary things."

She relished the husky voice he used for just her – it was low – both in timbre and volume, and told her she was cherished. That voice wasn't just used in the bedroom, she noticed he always used that voice with her – even on the Bridge. Only now it seemed more seductive, rather than commanding.

There was something so familiar and comfortable about being with him. As if sensing that thought, his nose nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"That everyone ought to do. I'm living in a kind of daydream," he continued to sing, quietly.

His fingers intertwined in her hair and she felt like that's where they belonged. When his lips met her temple, she wondered if they were fated to be placed there. And as his arm fell across her waist, she hypothesized that their bodies were a jigsaw puzzle – easily slipping together as she curled up onto her hip and he draped his leg around her.

Instead of continuing with the song, he sighed with the utmost satisfaction and reverence.

"Your voice is pleasant," she whispered.

"Years of choir practice and special lessons from Miss Barnes," he said with a grin.

"Another crush?" she asked.

He chuckled, "No …. No, I learned this song for Elizabeth Light. Older woman – she was smart and classy, which is why she liked jazz."

T'Pol peaked an eyebrow.

"I must like older, smart, classy women who like jazz."

"Indeed," she said with a bit of amusement touching her voice. "What happened to her?"

"Robert Mendez," he said, insinuating that she left him for another guy.

T'Pol tried to imagine him as a younger man dating – he was probably passionate and serious even then.

Thinking of his past inevitably led her to ponder the differences between Trip and Jonathan. When Trip would talk about himself, it seemed he was shy with women in general. Her late husband would admit he lacked confidence, which spawned few dates. She never understood the remark – he exuded confidence with women and had more than a few females at his beck and call during her first two years on the Enterprise. Before dating her, he had certainly sought their attention.

On the other end of the spectrum was Jonathan. She'd witnessed him with few women; the captain was possibly smitten with only a couple of females they'd encountered, but nothing untoward seemed to come of either relationship. The man appeared chaste. In fact, the first real romance she'd seen him entangled in was with Esilia … nearly seven years after leaving space dock. And, when she'd seen them together, he seemed loving and affectionate, but timidly so. Esilia would look to touch lips with her husband, and he would glance one way and then the other – meeting her lips with mild trepidation and embarrassment.

T'Pol reflected on her late husband. After they were married and up until his death, he would nab her lips, gently inserting his tongue and even pat her behind in public. It didn't matter who was around and what the circumstances were – he always treated her the same. Rather than continue a life of shunning that behavior, she accepted it. After all, it's what made Trip … Trip: boyishly sweet and eager to show affection and care.

Archer had almost two distinct personalities – one that everyone was able to see and another that very few people ever witnessed. Even when he was her friend, she knew him to be intensely private. It was blatantly obvious after becoming intimate with him. Although serious, he'd given her plenty of kisses and showed her the utmost tenderness. Except for two risky kisses in the hall, she doubted she'd get much more in public from him.

As she mused, Jonathan's fingers intertwined with hers and he snuggled into her again. His foot lightly stroked hers as his voice kept its sultry timbre and his eyes remained merry.

"I don't suppose you sing?" he kidded.

"No," she said. "At least, not well."

He chuckled soft and low.

When the song finished, she decided to logically grab a robe and prepare for the day. Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his – assuring him he was important to her. Although Trip never needed such platitudes, she sensed Jonathan did. By the gleam in his eye, she could tell she'd made the right decision.

"I'm going to take a shower," she whispered.

Giving a dawdled nod, he leaned back in bed and played the song again thinking about T'Pol and making love to her. Although he'd seen her display emotions, it was on rare occasions. But in his bed, she'd panted and moaned just as sensually as any human woman he'd ever been with – maybe more so – and knowing she kept these emotions bottled up made him realize what she had allowed him to see was special. Her soft mews and whimpers were only for him … and God help him if he hadn't desperately longed for them.

During their first night together, it was less romantic and more frantic. She cried out quietly to him, but not as if she belonged to him. Last night and even this morning, every word she uttered made him assume she was his. And that thought seemed to plant a permanent smile in the man's heart.

He'd been in love with her for so long -- admiring her spirit, intelligence, friendship, serenity and appearance – he never thought about what it would feel like to hear her whisper his name in the heat of the moment or nearly beg for an impassioned embrace. She'd always seemed reserved when it came to expressing affection – Trip would pester her for some, which she delivered with a hint of apprehension. He could appreciate her need for discretion.

Archer wondered about his late wife. The woman loved affection, feeding off of it and letting it ruminate. She was just as expressive as Trip was with T'Pol; in fact, Esilia and Trip seemed to have a lot in common – probably why they got along so well.

'Then again, Trip seemed to get along well with everyone,' he thought, smiling about his dead friend.

Trip.

_They'd had a lot to drink that night – much more than usual. The poker game in Malcolm's quarters, scheduled on the night of Lizzie's death, had lasted longer than expected. Reed had been concerned about the ten-year anniversary of Trip's sister's death and had wanted to make sure the engineer had plenty of friends around him to help him through the night. _

_For the occasion, Archer'd dusted off a bottle of bourbon he kept in the very back of his closet – the one he thought he'd drink from when they finally made it back into their own time, stopped the Xindi weapon and returned triumphantly home. He'd decided maybe this was a good excuse to open it. _

_After the card game, and Travis's success and riches, Archer poured a glass for Trip, Malcolm, Travis and himself. _

_"To Lizzie," he whispered. _

_"I'll drink to that," Trip called back. _

_After the bottle was depleted, Travis had wandered home – drunk, and Reed located another cheaper and less tasty bottle, the three men began to reveal much more than they'd intended. During the course of the evening, Malcolm had confessed he'd never wanted to be a bachelor and got drunk the night the last crew women got married – even though he was really never attracted to Crewman Phyllis Moore. Though it was eight years ago, the tactical officer recounted the information just as painfully as if it were yesterday while Archer and Trip had listened. _

_Bringing the conversation to a close, Trip slurred, "It's too bad. I always wanted to see you with kids." _

_Malcolm nodded. The Reed family line had apparently come to an unceremonious end. _

_"Well, you certainly made out well," Malcolm said, trying to pick up the conversation. He shot the engineer an evil grin. _

_Trip smiled. "Sure did." _

_Archer laughed and sent a playful punch to his buddy's arm, possibly delivered with a little more force than required thanks to the alcohol. _

_"Jon," Tucker said, growing a little more serious. _

_Archer, thinking the man was joking around, beamed back. "What?" _

_"You never loved her, did you?" he asked, his blue eyes leveling on his friend. _

_"Who?" he asked, furrowing his brow slightly, while keeping an inebriated smile on his face. _

_"T'Pol." _

_"I think you've had too much to drink," Archer jested. _

_"I don't think so. I don't mean now. There was a time …. For a while, I thought I'd really hurt you. You stopped talking to me after T'Pol and I started dating … Hell, you weren't even there for the engagement party. **Everyone** was there for the party." _

_"Trip …." _

_"I'm serious, Jon …. I'm not jealous or anything – well … not now anyway. I'm sorry if I hurt you." _

_Trip had always been a nice guy. It was apparent when T'Pol and he first started dating – he was in love with her. Entering in a relationship with her had never been about showing up the captain (although the two had a friendly competitiveness). His marriage, Lorian – it'd been because he loved her. And Archer would never be able to fault him for that. Sweeter still – the discussion Trip initiated was because he cared about him as a friend. It was just like the guy to dig deep into his soul and spill out emotions so easily and with such innocence. _

_It made sense to deny it, especially since Trip was so earnest. "No …." _

_"Yes," Trip insisted. "Just accept my apology will ya?" _

_"There's nothing to apologize about," Jon said, taking another drink. _

_"We're good?" he asked. _

_"Trip, we've always been good," he said. _

_"Not always," he reminded Jon. _

_Archer shook his head. "Always. Look, T'Pol is a beautiful woman … smart. Hell of a first officer, but she's always been my first officer. I couldn't fall in love with her, even if I wanted to. Besides, you've made her very happy." _

_Trip grinned. "Nothing in the rule books against loving first officers, but … I guess you're telling me to drop it." _

_Archer rolled his eyes, but continued to keep his thoughts stoically to himself. _

_"Just think, if something ever happens to me, you might get a second shot," Trip teased. _

_Archer guffawed, "Esilia may not like that." Then he gave Trip a wink. _

_"Well, I'm just saying I wouldn't care," he pontificated. "Hell, I'd be dead!" _

_Malcolm joined in the laughter as Archer shook his head again and chuckled at his friend's insistence, trying to keep the conversation light – which was Tucker's intent. _

_"Anyhow, Esilia is one damned fine woman. Friendly, gorgeous …," Trip said, a smile spreading over his face. _

_A little dreamily, Jon agreed. "Yeah, she is." _

_"I'm glad you met her. Hold on, maybe that should be – I'm glad I convinced you to marry her. I sure do like her – tall, affectionate …." _

_Furrowing his brows, he somewhat jokingly said, "Stop, or I'll start to get jealous." _

_Trip wrapped his arm around his shoulder and goofed, "I have a habit of doing that to you." _

_"I always assumed it was the other way around," Archer said, grinning. _

_Malcolm poured another round, the three listened to Trip's incoherent ramblings about his crazy uncle Bud and then Archer stumbled home to an irritated and pregnant wife. After he put some effort into working off his clothes, clumsily fell into bed and wrapped his arms around her, her irritation slipped away. _

_"I'm glad you had a nice time with the boys," she whispered. _

Hearing the shower start seemed to snap him to his senses. It was ironic how right Trip was – he did get a second shot. He'd been right really about everything – the jealousy, his feelings … Trip had a way of being right.

With a lopsided smile, he thought about Trip … and the Tuckers, including Lorian, and made his way into the bathroom. Wandering into the shower, he was pleased at T'Pol's reception. Grinning, he held her in his arms and felt the song play over his mind.

_The very thought of you …. _


	10. Lorian and Henry

**Nothing but Time**

**Lorian and Henry**

A/N: Wow! I never thought I'd write such a controversial story from beginning to end. Thanks for eveyone's comments. And special thanks to Monica!

**Chapter 22 **

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Archer seemed to wear a grin a lot these days. He'd whistle an off-key tune while entering the Bridge, beam at his crewmen in the Mess Hall and tease whoever was on duty with him. Hoshi of course was able to diagnose the "problem" right away, even without the extra bit of knowledge she already held: the man was completely in love.

T'Pol was a little harder to read … after all, she'd practiced years of stuffing away emotions. There were little things that rattled like a giant gong to the crew – things like occasionally calling the captain Jonathan with a gleam in her eye. It was the kind of spark the first officer got when she was able to report on new spatial phenomenon, brag about her son (although she'd never admit to that) or the way she had talked about Trip. It was electrifying and impossible to ignore.

Other little clues were available, if one looked hard enough – they often touched as she handed him a PADD, the way he'd glance over at her station without any real need to or the way he'd lean in … closer than he ever had before … when hearing information from his science officer.

Yeah – Hoshi didn't need to be Sam Spade to figure this out. So, she and Phlox, who also already knew the score, waited patiently until word spread around the ship. It wasn't the kind of rumor either wanted to start, but it was the kind of gossip that both desperately wanted to participate in.

Travis was the first one to eventually say something to Hoshi. As T'Pol sauntered into the Ready Room and the door slid closed, the helmsman turned to the communications officer with a strangled smile.

"Wanna hear something weird?" he asked.

Suddenly, her eyes widened and her ears perked up.

"Okay," she said. She knew well enough this meant he had a juicy piece of gossip.

"Gonzales said he saw T'Pol leave the captain's room this morning … and I mean 0600 _this morning_."

Malcolm snorted from his station, murmuring to himself that it was rubbish. He'd prided himself on his investigative skills – surely he wouldn't have missed signs of two Bridge officers involved in a … relationship.

Hoshi asked, "Is that so?"

Travis stared at his long-time friend, trying to weasel information out of her just by looking at her. After a slight twitch of his lips, she caved a little.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

"Because I think you're about to tell me what I want to know."

Hoshi's eyes shot to the Ready Room door and then back at Travis. "I really can't say."

Grinning, the man said, "I think you just did."

"She didn't say anything, Travis," Malcolm dismissed.

The helmsman shook his head and focused back on his panel, as Hoshi bit her lip desperately trying to keep her mouth shut.

As if sensing the dilemma, T'Pol wandered back onto the Bridge, a decided ghost of a smile on her face, as if her lips were tugging up helplessly by mere centimeters.

"Well, bloody hell," Malcolm whispered, giving the once over to T'Pol. Hoshi giggled.

"Did I miss something humorous?" T'Pol asked.

As the two fumbled for words, Travis came to the rescue. "I think I just proved a point, T'Pol," he said.

It was customary, after all these years, for the Bridge crew to jest with each other – even T'Pol. Most of the formal titles, including the "sirs" and "ma'ams," along with their Starfleet uniforms, had disappeared ages ago. The only people who managed still to have their rank hoisted on them, despite their objections, were the captain -- who'd always be Captain Archer to many, Doctor Phlox -- whose name never felt truly complete without the medical title and Chef -- whose real name was too embarrassing to say anyway.

For a moment, the Vulcan wondered whether she should reward her curiosity, or continue to let the comment go unchallenged. Something nipped at her, as if it were time to address an important issue.

"What point was that, Travis?" she asked.

"Pardon me," he said, turning around, "but … when's the wedding?"

T'Pol considered the question much longer than she should've, giving an immediate indication to the crew something really was up between the two … something more than the over-long gazes Archer held with her for years. After a deep breath, she spoke carefully.

"We're not getting married, although I assume that is not out of the question."

Stunned, each member of the crew hung his mouth open with disbelief.

"We have only been dating a few months," she reported.

Malcolm guffawed, as Travis' smile widened and spoke up bravely.

"Well, I think it's fantastic. Captain Archer …."

On cue, the captain strolled out of his office and noticed the immediate silence that hung in the air. Cocking his head to one side, he placed his hands on his hips and looked over his crewmembers as they feebly tried to man their stations. A furrow rippled onto his head as well as a smirk. As the captain, he was aware when it was important for him to know something … and sometimes when it wasn't. With a timid smile and relieved forehead, he looked at T'Pol.

"I'm going to get some coffee. You have the Bridge."

With that, he casually walked into the turbolift, and let them resume their discussion without him. Travis stared back at the science officer, who already seemed engrossed in her duties. Although he, and the rest of the crew, would've liked to know about the relationship, T'Pol didn't offer any details. Leaving it at how long they'd been dating, she peered into the scanner.

She hadn't regretted her decision to say something – after all these years together … eighteen now … they were family. Explaining their relationship was the right thing to do. But, the question about marriage stuck in her mind. Marriage – she wasn't sure she could do it again. Vulcans remarried; that wasn't really the problem. It was whether _she _could.

'That bears consideration,' she thought.

**Chapter 23 **

Jon and T'Pol met at his quarters, while Henry and Elyssa played with Toru and Yoshiko over at their cabin. He'd used the excuse of "being like old times" to eat dinner alone with her and arranged for Hoshi to take care of the kids just for a few hours.

Almost immediately when T'Pol's finger pressed the bell, he appeared. Looking down the corridor to his left, and then his right – he saw the coast was clear and leaned over for a brief kiss. When their lips parted, the Vulcan could tell the man seemed nervous about something.

As they talked and made their way to the Mess Hall, Archer gazed at her a few times as if he had something important to say and then clamped his mouth shut. After going through this ritual a few times, he finally settled on a compliment.

"You look great," he whispered as they almost made their way in.

The Vulcan looked down at her clothes and thought he'd seen her in this outfit many times before. Nothing was really different about her appearance – she wore no more makeup than she typically did and hadn't fixed her hair in an unusual way. Suddenly, the Vulcan comprehended: the comment she'd made to the Bridge crew in the afternoon probably made it around to him, and he was endeavoring to (using the human phrase) 'butter her up.'

As they entered the cafeteria, they received more stares than they typically would've – news had already made it's way around the ship like wildfire now that both Hoshi and Phlox were free to discuss this romance. Before then, it'd been eyewitnesses who hadn't been sure they really saw anything or listeners who couldn't believe it (although they wanted to) anyway.

Meeting the eyes of a few under his command, Archer did something strange and completely out of character -- he wrapped his hand around hers to the satisfaction and delight of those watching them. Puffing out his chest and holding himself a marginally straighter, he led T'Pol into the Captain's Mess. As the curious eyes, now satisfied, went back to their dinners, only a pair remained watching him -- T'Pol's.

"That was unexpected," she whispered to him, causing him to smile.

Slipping into their seats, they ordered, chatted about a few work-related items, including now that Amanda was pregnant again who'd be able to watch daycare, and securing additional vaccinations for all the children aboard.

An assistant came to T'Pol's mind effortlessly – Phlox's oldest child Zara, who was 17. Already finished with school at an accelerated rate, the girl had already begun to study under the tutelage of her father about medicine. She was ready for the added responsibility.

"Would this give her enough time to continue her medical training?" Archer asked, concerned about what would happen to the crew if Phlox died.

"I believe so, although we should probably discuss this with Phlox and Amanda first."

He nodded, and then broached just one of the subjects that made him anxious: her son.

"Speaking of training the children … I've been watching the kids on Enterprise for some time … thinking about who might make a good captain."

The Vulcan listened intently.

"Lorian has some excellent qualities," said Archer.

T'Pol's fork clanked against her plate.

Archer forged ahead. "He has determination, drive, ambition, curiosity and an engineering mind. He's logical and not prone to emotion, but can rely on them to …."

"_Captain_?" she asked. "You believe _Lorian_ would make a suitable captain? More so than your own son?"

He paused, collected his thoughts and continued, "I love Henry, but he's not a leader. He's going to be an excellent engineer someday, but not a captain. Seems to have my father's head for taking things apart and putting them back together." With amusement he said, "Must skip generations."

"Henry is only ten. It's impossible to determine his skills at this age in life."

Archer could only shake his head at the comment. "He's taken apart PADDs, scanners, the door bell, computer equipment and practically everything he can get his hands on. Seems like he already has the knack for figuring out how things work. I'd like to encourage it. Besides, T'Pol, I'm not getting any younger. Do you realize I'm approaching my sixtieth birthday?"

"What about Toru Hayes?" she asked.

"Seems like he has a natural talent for assessing tactical situations. He'd probably benefit by spending more time with Malcolm – learning the tactical station. Unfortunately, he doesn't have leadership skills either … or moxy."

"What about the other children?" she asked. "There are approximately …."

"I've thought about this for a while, T'Pol. Lorian has a natural curiosity about space, a background in science, tactical skills …. T'Pol, I'm not just saying this because he's your son … or Trip's."

"He's only 16."

"He's nearly 17," he countered.

An eyebrow crept skeptically onto her forehead.

Archer continued, "I'd like to start grouping the children and training the oldest ones, based on their natural interests and aptitudes. I'd like us to start preparing the children as part of their studies to take over Enterprise … in case something happens."

"The children have been learning various information about the ship since they could read."

"I'm talking about preparing them to run it … by themselves," he said. The seriousness of his voice led her to believe there was little she could do to dissuade him.

She sighed. "Jonathan, if anything happened to you, I would be able to remain in charge of this vessel."

He reached for her hand. "Of course you would. I'm thinking about sometime in the far future."

Maybe he was right. And it was almost human the way she had … pride … over hearing her son was a born leader … that the captain had chosen Lorian above all other children, including his own. Looking down at her salad, she speared a lettuce leaf and decided Jonathan was logical.

"Very well, would you like to work on it tomorrow?" she asked.

He smiled. "Sounds good. My Ready Room at 0900 hours?"

With that over with, he tucked into his food and gave her a wink – providing her an opportunity to discuss a few things.

"Travis asked if we were seeing each other," T'Pol mentioned.

Only momentarily letting his fork of mashed potatoes hang in the air uneaten, he recovered quickly, shoveling it into his mouth. He'd never get used to the way she sometimes dove headlong into a difficult conversation.

"Yeah, I've already heard. I mean look at the reception we got in the Mess Hall."

Watching the specter of a frown wiggle onto her face, he explained himself. "It's okay. Hell, I'm surprised we managed to keep it from everyone so long. You're okay with it, right?"

"Of course."

"You know, now that it's in the open …." Glancing up and then hastily back down, he swirled a pattern into his mashed potatoes and then peas. With some bashfulness, he continued, "… it makes things a little easier."

"Easier?"

Dragging his fork until it almost scraped his plate, he said, "Means we can move in together."

As she remained silent, he caught her eye and put his fork down.

"If you want," he said.

He was pretty sure she didn't bat an eye.

Quietly, he started his confession. "Things have been going so well, it seems like a reasonable step … a logical one."

Appealing to her logic, he thought, would sway her, but when she didn't respond, he decided to say more.

"You could spend the night without having to worry about leaving Lorian at home alone. Hoshi and Phlox wouldn't have to watch Elyssa and Henry so often."

A brow flicked at him.

"I mean … I'd want both you _and _Lorian to live with us."

She was still.

"If you want."

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

"It'd be more like a family."

As she continued to stare, his smile waned.

"I'd love to wake up next to you every morning."

Nothing.

"T'Pol?"

Silence.

"I mean, you don't have to. Things are okay the way they are …. If you're worried about Lorian or …."

Suddenly she interrupted, "I would like to spend time alone with Henry and Elyssa before I give you an answer. Would that be possible?"

Taken aback, he jerked his head. "Sure."

"Good," she said, sipping at her tea thoughtfully.

Since she was going to discuss this with his children, he felt the need to explain he'd already prepped them, kinda asked their permission before he made the decision to ask her tonight.

"I've already talked with them about it," he said, furrowing his brows, hoping he'd done the right thing. When he saw T'Pol's neutral expression, he decided she was okay with it.

What he didn't tell her was, when he'd mentioned casually to Elyssa and Henry that T'Pol might be spending more time with them, Elyssa had screamed with joy preventing him from becoming more serious. Meanwhile, Henry had sported a large frown and withdrew from the conversation. The boy needed more time, but Jon knew his son would warm up to the Vulcan – after all, this woman had changed his diapers, read to him on occasion and helped looked after him all his life. The only thing that had really changed was that their father and T'Pol were sleeping together.

"And, perhaps in the near future, you could do the same for Lorian?" T'Pol asked.

Lorian. That was the hitch. The kid was always something special to Archer, in a way he couldn't explain. He didn't love the child with the same gusto or all-encompassing emotion he felt for his children, but it wasn't too far off the mark. All he knew was that, Godfather or no, next to his children, Lorian was probably the most precious kid on board to him.

Years of watching the boy toddle after him and spew question after question had completely faded over night – the first night Lorian discovered the personal logs where the captain's feelings about his first officer were spelled out. Jon wanted to do the right thing: talk with the boy, but figured the young Vulcan needed his space. Maybe he was like Henry that way … time and patience were required. Well, it was good that T'Pol was forcing things into the open; in truth he'd wanted to settle things with Lorian for some time.

"You want me to have a man-to-man talk with him?" he asked.

"I think it may be helpful."

"I'd love to."

If she could've smiled, she would've. Instead, she let her lips twitch giving him the closest smile she possibly could. Seeing the ridiculous motion of her lips, and knowing that was her way of showing gratitude, he reached over and kissed the palm of her hand.

_Apparently, Vulcans were known to sometimes be in labor as long as a week and on rare occasions longer. The captain figured a human woman would be scared shitless by that fact, but T'Pol, as usual, took it in stride. _

_As Archer shifted in his uncomfortable metal chair, he mused about his rotund first officer. Glancing over, he noticed right away she was sweating profusely and gave an occasional wince as if to ward off a great deal amount of pain. Something told him this was **it**. _

_"T'Pol, let's get you to Sickbay." _

_"I want to complete these scans," she said. Stubbornly, she fixated on her station, gripping the sides of her scanner as if she could rip the metal from the console. _

_"Hoshi, notify Dr. Phlox that T'Pol is on her way. And … contact the proud father, will ya?" he said to his slightly pregnant communications officer. _

_"Yes, sir," she said, working her fingers across the console. _

_T'Pol remained at her station. "Captain, Vulcans are in labor sometimes as long as a week. I have plenty of …," she grimaced, "…time to collect scans." _

_"Oh, no you don't. I'm relieving you of command." Holding out his hand, he said, "Come on." _

_Reluctantly, she grabbed his hand, struggling to stand. As soon as she was steady, she placed one hand on her back and waddled toward the turbolift. _

_"Malcolm, you have the Bridge," Archer called out over his shoulder. _

_The entire Bridge crew wished the Vulcan good luck, to which T'Pol gave a troubled brow – almost discounting or discouraging "fortune." Fortune wasn't logical. With the hand that wasn't nearly glued to her back, she rubbed her bloated stomach and continued to breathe. As a flood of pain hit her, she stumbled a little and Archer reached out a hand to stable her. _

_"I can't believe you'd work through labor," he said. "When did it start?" _

_"Early this morning," she admitted. _

_"This morning?!" he said with astonishment. "Does Trip know?" _

_"I didn't want to worry him." _

_Archer shook his head. Unbelievable. This woman was utterly not to be believed. It was sweet that she believed the engineer's response to her labor would be concern. Well, undoubtedly there was some of that. But, overwhelmingly, Trip had bragged about this day as if the entire universe would change … and maybe it would for him. _

_As the turbolift doors opened, Archer walked with her into Sickbay letting her lean on him. Feeling the weight on his shoulder made him smirk; he'd been astounded that such a tiny woman could carry such massive girth. It could've been the long Vulcan gestation period– she'd been pregnant for one year and three months, or it could've been the late night trips he'd seen her make to the mess hall to eat gallons of rice pudding. Whatever it was, the woman was enormous – a five foot seven inch balloon with a tiny head, skinny arms and legs and long, narrow feet. In other words she looked preposterous … and adorable. _

_When T'Pol and Archer entered the medical facility, Phlox beamed tremendously. "Ahhh! This is very exciting!" _

_As T'Pol mumbled a grunt, the doctor whipped into action. _

_"Onto that biobed," instructed Phlox as he gathered some equipment. _

_In her condition, she couldn't get the momentum to push herself up and onto the platform. Wanting to laugh, but restraining himself, Archer awkwardly maneuvered his hands under her arms (and past her extended gut) and hoisted her onto the bed. _

_After doing so, he noticed she was drenched in sweat and her cheeks were turning a brownish-green. Shushing out air like a train, her lungs expanded in and out quickly as the captain gawked at her, waiting for some instruction on how to help. When the moment passed, he felt the need to say something. _

_"Need anything?" he asked, running his hand against her sweaty temple. _

_Suddenly, she grabbed at his hand and began to squeeze. Archer yelped in pain, wondering if his bones were being crushed when Phlox rescued him. _

_A-titter with excitement, the doctor ran a scanner over her. "Everything seems to be progressing nicely. But, your child is taking his … or her … time in reaching the birth canal." _

_T'Pol nodded helplessly, as she gritted her teeth. Again, Archer's hand succumbed to a vice grip. _

_"How far apart are your contractions?" Phlox asked. _

_"Roughly five minutes, although the sharpness of the pain has increased." _

_As if overjoyed to give more medical advice, he said, "Expect it to get worse." _

_At that note, Archer wrestled his hand free. "Maybe you can give her something for the pain?" _

_"No," T'Pol said. "Trip should be here. He can perform neuropressure. We have already practiced this technique." _

_Right. Trip. In the excitement of the moment, Archer had almost tricked himself into thinking he would sit with T'Pol until she brought her child into the world. With that, Trip burst through the doors -- grease smeared onto his cheek, hair standing akimbo, blue eyes wide with panic and an extended smile painted onto his lips. _

_"Now, honey, we'll get through this," Trip said, more to himself than anyone. _

_Archer stepped aside and let her husband rush to her side. Trip, as he should've, rebuked her for not telling him she was in labor that morning. He scolded her for trying to finish up the scans, pointing his finger and waving his arms wildly in the air and then after the display, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. _

_As an afterthought, the man understandably patted Archer on the back. "Thanks. I owe you one." _

_Turning his attention back to the Vulcan, the soon-to-be-father began providing neuropressure, starting with her hand. That's when Archer decided he wasn't really needed any more. _

_"Let me know when he's born," said Jon with a smile. For some reason, he knew it was going to be a boy. Just plain intuition. _

_"You bet," said Trip. _

_After days of pacing around the Bridge, the Ready Room and his room, and stopping by Sickbay every few hours – he got the news. While entering a personal log about the nearest star cluster, the one T'Pol was scanning, Hoshi's voice burst over the intercom. _

_"It's a boy!" she exclaimed. And then realizing he may not have wanted the intrusion, she corrected herself, "Uhm, sir." _

_To answer her, he chuckled loudly, wrapped his knuckles on the desk and grinned. _

_"Thank you, Hoshi. Everything okay?" _

_"Yes, sir. Dr. Phlox said it was a textbook birth … for the first Vulcan/human baby born. He's 13 pounds and 9 ounces, 27 inches long with blond hair and blue eyes … and pointed ears." _

_Damn! "Nearly 14 pounds? How's T'Pol?" _

_"Apparently tired." _

_"Understandably. Trip?" _

_"Glowing. There were a few complaints from the gamma shift about Trip's yelling in the hallway." _

_Archer chortled. "Understood. Archer out." _

_Giddy, that's how he felt, almost as if he'd had the baby himself. Walking out onto the Bridge, he noticed his crew chatting about the size of the baby and more. Joyful, he listened to the conversation for a few moments before he realized he couldn't pace or sit still any longer. He wanted to see that child, but didn't want to be an imposition. Maybe he'd just walk by Sickbay and peek through the glass in the doors. That decision made, he told Hoshi to "mind the store" as he nodded for Malcolm to follow him into the turbolift. _

_Malcolm smiled broadly and quipped, "Whew, 13 pounds and 9 ounces. T'Pol gave birth to a bowling ball." _

_Archer and his armory officer immediately began to laugh and make (made?) their way toward Sickbay. As he peered through the glass, Archer could see Phlox hold something while talking with the engineer. Trip dabbed at his eyes and spoke with a grin plastered onto his face. Jon's heart thumped – he'd heard that the day your child is born is the most unforgettable. Trip looked like the epitome of that axiom. _

_Malcolm whispered, "He certainly looks pleased with himself." _

_Giving a silent laugh, Archer agreed. "As well he should." _

_At the sign of the two loitering in the hall, Trip waved them in. Malcolm was the first to pound his friend on the back, "Congratulations!" _

_Trip, still tears of bliss in his eyes, grinned wildly. "God that kid is beautiful." _

_Archer got his turn and drew his friend into a hug. "You're going to be a great dad." _

_As he hugged his friend, Archer saw T'Pol completely drained of color with sweat still pouring down her face. _

_Stepping back, the captain asked, "She okay?" _

_"Yeah, apparently she's in a light healing trance. She can interact with you, but she's kind of spacey." _

_"I don't want to bug her," said Archer. _

_Trip nudged him ahead, "Go on. She'd love to show off Lorian." _

_Archer thought, 'Lorian?' _

_As Trip filled Malcolm in on all the details, Archer took an unsteady step toward her and gave her a gentle smile. She was definitely pale, but she looked gorgeous. He placed his hand on hers and tightened his grip slightly. _

_"How ya feeling?" _

_"Fatigued," she replied, slowly. _

_Phlox brought over a large, clam baby and placed it into T'Pol's arms, raising her biobed up so she could nurse him. The doctor presented a creepy smile and said, "This is Lorian." _

_Archer looked down at the little creature. Damnit if he didn't look exactly like Trip, but with pointed ears. He gave a heartfelt sigh and whispered, "Hello." _

_"Would you like to hold him?" she asked. _

_He'd held very few babies, but something in him really wanted to hold this one. _

_"You sure it's okay?" he asked. _

_"Yes," she affirmed. Weakly she brought the child up as his hands rushed to scoop Lorian's neck and back. _

_As he brought the baby to his chest, he could see why people would want them. It didn't cry or gurgle, just strangely regarded the captain with wide blue eyes. Archer ran his long fingers against the boy's light blond hair and wiggled his ears without a peep from him. _

_"He's beautiful, T'Pol." _

_"I think so as well," she said. _

_"His name is Lorian?" _

_"Charles Lorian Tucker IV," she corrected. _

_He gave a small snort. The Tucker line would live on. What an interesting combination – dark blue eyes and copper-colored skin. Unlike human babies, this one wasn't wrinkled, didn't cry or even try to squirm. Phlox began explaining the medical wonders of the Vulcans – staying in the womb allowed for more advanced brain activity on birth, better digestion …. Tuning out all the details, Jon ran his fingers onto the child's cheeks and had the urge to baby talk him. _

_"I don't expect an answer today, but Trip and I have been discussing the role of godfather," said T'Pol. "We'd like you to be his, if you are willing." _

_"Me?" Archer asked. _

_"Yes," she said. _

_Without a second thought, or needing to think, he said, "Okay." _

_Suddenly, the baby gave a small whimper as T'Pol unsnapped the top of her gown. _

_"He's hungry," she said. _

_Archer bent down and gave Lorian back to his mother and she immediately pressed the tiny creature against her breast. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The captain watched her cradle the infant to her, gazing down on it, and his heart became full. This moment, more so than becoming captain, was about the most glorious he could ever imagine. Mother and son. Feeling himself tear up, he blinked the awe away and turned back to talk with Trip. _

Archer recalled that moment as being possibly one of the most magical he'd experienced, up until that time. Of course it didn't surpass the birth of his own children. When Henry was born, he'd cried when he'd held his son in his arms, kissed Phlox (and pretty much anyone who stopped by to visit) and spoke with such pride in his voice when he introduced his friends and crewmen to his son. With Elyssa, he didn't cry – he smiled … a lot. Even their greeting was one of two old friends meeting – he rubbed her tiny nose with his oversized one and welcomed her into the world. It was something they did even to this day.

"I was just remembering when Lorian was born," he said. "He was so beautiful."

"I recall watching your eyes become glassy for a moment."

"I didn't think you'd noticed." His hand stroked hers. That was the thing about T'Pol; she always noticed.

**Chapter 24 **

As promised, T'Pol came over two days later to talk with the Archer children. In perhaps one of her best moves, she decided to take the kids to the Mess Hall for ice cream. The children had a pension for sweets, something that their father tried to deny them as many times as he could … while occasionally caving in.

T'Pol led the two into the Mess Hall and pondered Lorian's choice of activities with Jonathan: boxing. She immediately thought the decision to follow through with this would be a bad idea. She wasn't sure whom she was more concerned for -- Archer had experience, but Lorian had youth and an "ax to grind." Worse, the two were alike; they would undoubtedly be competitive to see exactly who was the stronger, fitter man. That's something she always admired about her late husband: the ability to give in. Neither Lorian nor Jonathan would be likely to do so.

'At least, if things get out of hand, they would fight it out of their system,' she thought.

Trying to push that aside, she felt a tiny hand grab hers and peered down at Elyssa. The pig-tailed girl had already saved up millions of questions to ask and was looking for the opportunity to unleash them. The little girl was imaginative and bright, and it was clear that Archer encouraged her inquisitiveness, rather than discourage it. If that was his parenting choice, then she was obliged to honor it.

"Why are you taking us and Daddy taking Lorian?" the little girl asked.

"Actually, that's what I wish to talk with you about. Your father and I care about each other deeply."

Henry rolled his eyes as the woman noticed his skepticism. "Although I get to spend time with you, it's rarely just us. I thought perhaps we could get to know each other. For example, I'd like to give you special permission to call me by my first name, T'Pol."

"Does Yoshiko get to call you T'Plol?" she asked.

"T'Pol," the Vulcan said. "And no. You two are special."

"Why, because you and Dad are girlfriend and boyfriend?" Henry asked.

"Yes," T'Pol said.

As they passed several of the trays, Henry seemed drawn to the equipment instead of the food. The boy was skinny, but already tall for his age.

Noticing his gaze, she said, "Your father said you enjoy dismantling equipment."

He agreed. "I like to see how things work. Dad said I've got a talent for it, just like my grandpa."

"I wish I'd known your father's father, but I worked with someone for many years who did -- Ambassador Soval."

Henry furrowed his brow. "I think Dad's mentioned him."

"Can we have ice cream now?" asked Elyssa, looking at the display cases with eagerness.

T'Pol saw that Henry was most likely more interested in discussing his grandpa's skills and his own, but his little sister was desperately trying to eye some of the desserts in the tray cases. The Vulcan was amused, even if she didn't show it, watching Elyssa propel herself into the air attempting to see the food.

"Of course. Henry can probably reach what he wants. May I pick you up Elyssa, or do you have a dessert in mind?"

She beamed. "Pick me up, please!"

Henry deliberated over the decision for a few moments eying a sundae and an ice cream cake. Finally, with purpose, he reached in and retrieved the sundae. Elyssa was more impulsive. With T'Pol precariously holding her, she immediately slid open one of the food doors and pulled out a piece of chocolate cake with ice cream.

"Daddy doesn't let us have sweets very much. He doesn't want our teeth to rot. And, he said that Phlox isn't a very good dentist. Although Daddy says Phlox is a good doctor. Last time I went to Dr. Phlox I had two cavities. Wanna see?" she asked, opening her mouth.

T'Pol raised her eyebrows and led the kids to a table, after gathering napkins and utensils. Henry slowly and methodically ate as Elyssa threatened to swallow her snack whole.

"Perhaps you should slow down," T'Pol cautioned Elyssa.

The little girl frowned. "Yes, T'Pol."

"So, why are you Dad's girlfriend?" asked Henry.

"He cares for me. He's attracted to me. And I care for and am attracted to your father."

"Were you always?"

"No, not always. But, your father has always been … special to me. Perhaps he's only more … _special_ now."

"Are you moving in with us?" the boy asked.

"Your father and I have discussed it. Would it bother you if we did?"

"Dunno," Henry mumbled.

"I wouldn't mind!" Elyssa said, leaving her dessert long enough to throw in her opinion. Cake and ice cream had already splattered on her pink overalls and stuck to her lip and chin. A clean forearm managed to rub most of it off effectively.

T'Pol furrowed her brow and pushed the napkin toward the youngster. Following her prompt, the girl wrapped her grubby hands around it and used it to wipe the few crumbs that remained from her mouth.

"If you move in with us, will Lorian move in too?" Henry asked.

"Yes. If I live in your domicile, so will my son. How do you feel about that?"

Henry smiled. "I like him."

Elyssa frowned. "I wish you had a daughter."

"Henry, if you're uncomfortable about your father and I, now is the time to express it. Both of us want what's best for you."

"I wish Dad had let more time pass," the boy confessed.

"What would be an appropriate amount of time?"

Henry shrugged.

"Five years for humans is a long time," she said. "Five years for Ikarrans is longer."

"Why did he need you? He had us?" he asked.

"I think he needed adult companionship. And, although you father cares for you very much, he needs someone to share some of his problems with. So, he turned to me."

"I think of you as Mrs. Tucker," Henry said.

T'Pol afforded herself the rare opportunity to touch the young man. Placing her arm around his shoulder, as she'd seen his father do many times before, she talked with him about how many times their lives had intersected.

"I understand your confusion. I've known both of you all your lives. Henry, I was the first person, other than your parents, to hold you."

Henry gave a lopsided smile, looking very much like his father.

"You were very small at birth, as most Ikarrans are. You hadn't even opened your eyes, but you were very pleasing and gentle. You had a head full of dark hair …."

The boy had seen pictures, but enjoyed the first hand account.

"It fell out within the first three weeks of your birth, and tiny blonde hairs grew instead. I remember when you were born, your father cried." With some difficult suddenly swallowing, she said, "I've seen your father cry only twice – your birth and your mother's death."

_It was a peculiar day when Henry was born. Archer was on the Bridge pacing nervously, striding across the back near the turbolift, shuffling his feet near his chair and then walking the length in front of the armory and then science stations. _

_T'Pol felt herself sigh. Esilia should've entered labor last week, and the captain had been like this ever since. Phlox wanted to wait as long as possible until he induced labor, which he was on the verge of doing. According to Esilia, she had long-passed uncomfortable and was bordering on just plain miserable. _

_"Captain, may I see you in your Ready Room?" she asked. _

_His head whipped around as if stunned. "Huh?" _

_Her eyes ventured toward the Ready Room. _

_"Oh, sure. Malcolm, you have the Bridge." _

_Lt. Reed nodded, and silently threw T'Pol a look of thanks. Apparently the pacing had gotten on everyone's nerves. _

_After the two entered the sanctum of his inner room and Archer checked his watch, worriedly, T'Pol decided to speak to the distracted man. _

_"Perhaps it's best you take some time off, until you know Esilia's status," she suggested. _

_"No, no … I'm fine," he said. _

_His boots clapped against the deck plating of his Ready Room, as he dodged under beams he'd been stooping under since he'd been given Enterprise. _

_"Jonathan, may I be blunt?" she asked, rather humanly. _

_He stopped in his tracks. "Of course." _

_"Your pacing and anxiety is affecting the crew. You're distracted … rather you've been distracted for nearly a week. I know the birth of your first child is weighing on you and you are … eager for its birth." _

_Like a boy who'd been scolded and then told something exciting, he focused in on the exhilarating tidbit and grinned. "God, eager is an understatement." _

_Before she could further condemn him, he turned to her and learned on his desk. "Was it this thrilling for you?" _

_She thought back to when she had been pregnant with Lorian. It was logical she would give birth. After all, it seemed like the natural conclusion to having sex. Perhaps she'd felt most enthused when after trying unsuccessfully for a year, she'd heard she was pregnant. Yes she'd felt enthusiasm. But she hadn't been as distracted as Jonathan was … or as impatient. _

_"The announcement that I was pregnant was stimulating. However, I was not anxious at the time of his birth." _

_Archer furrowed his brows for a second. _

_She continued, "Dr. Phlox is an excellent physician. I'm sure you have nothing to be concerned about." _

_Archer heaved a mild laugh. "No, I'm not nervous … well … maybe a little. I'm … impatient. I'm ready to see him or her." He smiled. "Were you born on time?" _

_"Pardon me?" _

_"I was born about a week late. My dad said he and my mother attended a Shakespeare festival – all of the Henry plays – walking around and sitting in the afternoon sun, hoping I'd speed it up a little." _

_T'Pol tipped her eyebrow. "Was it successful?" _

_"Born nearly 8 hours after the last play," he said with a smile. _

_T'Pol didn't recall being told anything about her birth. It certainly wasn't anything out of the ordinary or anything special; people gave birth all of the time. But, humans were sentimental creatures who found the most unremarkable things fascinating. As she opened her mouth to recount this was one of the many reasons she chose to stay aboard Enterprise, a communication broke through. _

_"She's in labor!" Hoshi barked over the comm. _

_Springing into action, Archer began to sprint out the door, nearly clocking himself on a beam. As he darted out of his Ready Room, he called out, "This is it!" _

_Hoshi had just enough time to say, "Good luck" before he stepped into the turbolift and vanished. _

_T'Pol peaked an eyebrow at the closed turbolift door, deciding she'd seen the captain exhibit illogical behavior before, but not in a long time. Taking the captain's chair, she tranquilly perched on the edge and thought about the child Esilia would bring into the world. Mutely, she wished the child to have the captain's strength of character and nobility, but hoped the offspring would have more patience. _

_Suddenly minutes seemingly turned to hours, and reluctantly, T'Pol found herself walking along the plating in front of her station and then crossing back over her footsteps. Turning thoughtfully as she noted the time, she wondered why no one from Sickbay had contacted the Bridge by now. With her thumb hanging over the comm button to see if her husband knew any more information, Hoshi looked up, startled. Gripping the device already plunged into her ear, she announced Archer's son. _

_"Henry Naran Archer weighs 6 pounds and 2 ounces," Hoshi said, smiling. After giggling a bit, she said, "The mother is doing well, and the father, according to Dr. Phlox, is beside himself." _

_T'Pol uncharacteristically drummed her fingers along her station trying to decide whether she should finish out her shift and then see their child, or see Henry now. Restraining her impulsiveness, she decided to sit in the captain's chair and wait. It was only another three hours. _

_One hour and 45 minutes later, T'Pol left her chair. _

_"I have something to attend to. Malcolm, you have the Bridge," she said and then strolled off into the turbolift. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if Trip had already come and gone. If she knew her husband, he would've already been there, talked with the parents, held the baby and been back in Engineering. _

_As she walked into Sickbay, she saw Archer hovering over his son's bed, watching him sleep. Esilia, still in the biobed, was catching a few winks herself. Regretting her decision she stopped after entering the facility and glanced back toward the door. Preparing to leave, she heard a whisper. _

_"Come here," Archer said. _

_As she was about to decline, he waved her over emphatically. T'Pol took a few tiny steps forward, then changed her stride with more confidence as the father routed his attention back to his boy. _

_A very careful hand touched the crown of Henry's head. "This is my son." _

_T'Pol peaked into the crib. The child was small, certainly skinnier and shorter than Vulcan babies. A tiny ridge dotted his forehead, a slight gurgle passed through his esophagus every time he breathed and his hair was dark … much like Jonathan's had been at one time, before being speckled with gray. For the most part, the child looked like Esilia – nose, forehead and mouth, but the chin was his father's. Despite his infancy, she could see the smallest of dimples in it and hypothesized it would only increase as the boy grew. The baby's eyes were closed, preventing her from viewing the color. _

_Wanting to pick him up, but not wanting to wake him, she touched the boy's cheek gently and then stared up at the captain. A strange half-smile worked its way onto his face and a few tears left his eyes. As if embarrassed of his emotions, he quickly shooed them away with a hand. _

_"Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," he said. But, the Vulcan knew exactly what was wrong: joy. _

_Quietly, T'Pol said, "Trip had the same reaction when Lorian was born." _

_"Being a captain, seeing the first dark matter ever recorded … nothing … nothing holds a candle to this moment," he said, as if trying to figure out why. "I just …," he said, clearing his throat. _

_"Congratulations," T'Pol whispered, blinking quickly and watching her commander. _

_As the baby kicked its leg signaling it was awake, Archer picked his son up carefully and without really any explanation kissed his forehead. _

_"Want to hold him?" _

_Scooping the baby, she cradled him in her arms. The Vulcan traced a finger over the ridge of Henry's head and said, "Very becoming." _

_"You're the first non-Archer to hold him," Archer said with a smile. _

_"I would've thought Trip …." _

_Archer grinned, and nodded his head to his new infant. "He didn't want to wake him." _

_T'Pol sighed slightly, staring down at the newborn, and felt honored. _

Henry ducked his head into his hand. It was embarrassing and wonderful to hear this story; neither parent had told him about his birth in the same way T'Pol just did. The excitement, drama and eagerness was there, but told by a third party it seemed sweeter and more true.

"Your father tells an amusing story about the time your mother cried when she thought you'd taken ill with a disease."

Henry smiled. He'd heard that one before, but always enjoyed hearing it again. It was a story that was tender and funny.

"That's when Henry lost his first tooth," Esilia chimed in.

"What you may not know about this story," T'Pol said, "is that your father has managed to collect all your teeth, locks of hair, recordings of your first words, pictures and various other data."

"Dad?" Henry asked. He hadn't shown him any of these things.

Elyssa frowned, "Does the Tooth Fairy give these things to Daddy?"

T'Pol was a bit stuck. It was her policy never to lie to children. She insisted Lorian never grow up with fantasies about Santa Claus, Easter bunnies or Tooth Fairies much to Trip's chagrin. The idea, she'd determined, was preposterous. Allowing Lorian to celebrate these holidays was their compromise, that and the promise they would exchange presents, perform Easter egg hunts and at least personally reward Lorian for losing teeth.

But, it appeared the Archers had raised their children differently. Elyssa in particular was given to flights of fancy, which was encouraged. Waiting for a response, Henry decided to speak up.

"Yes," he said. "The Tooth Fairy gives them to Dad."

It was then T'Pol realized without giving his approval, he was at least starting to warm up to the idea of his father dating her. This had been more progress than the two had made during the three months of dating.

T'Pol's arm left his shoulder. "Perhaps we can convince your father to let you see these things."

Elyssa nodded violently and scooted her chair next to T'Pol, placing her little blonde head against the Vulcan's arm.

"Am I going to have a little sister?" Elyssa asked.

"No. Neither your father nor I want additional children. We're happy with the ones we have."

Elyssa stuck out her lip as if to pout. T'Pol pointedly ignored it and turned to Henry.

"I will never be a replacement for your mother. However, I hope one day you can call me your friend."

The boy blinked carefully back and smiled.

Elyssa was already sold on the idea. "If you move in with us, does this mean you'll take us out for ice cream?"

Evenly, but with enjoyment invading her voice, she said, "I think that can be arranged."

"When do you move in?" Henry asked.

"If you two are amenable to the idea … and Lorian is as well, maybe as early as a month."

"Huh," Henry said, taking a bite of his sundae, which had mostly melted. The odd thing was: sitting eating ice cream with her, she seemed very affectionate. In fact, there was always something pleasant about the woman. She wasn't given to hysterics or even prone to emotions (sometimes to Lorian's disappointment), but in a way, she seemed very caring. This wasn't the first time she'd had ice cream with him, nor was it the first time she'd ever talked with him. But, today marked a milestone – it was the first time he was permitted to call her T'Pol, it was the first time she'd hugged him to her (although it was subtle – just like she was) and it was the first time in three months he understood why she was his dad's girlfriend.

T'Pol took a deep breath and continued to chat to the kids about school, life and trivial matters, wondering how Jonathan was faring.

TBC


	11. Lorian and Jon

Nothing but Time

Lorian and Jon

**Chapter 25**

Archer walked out in a pair of shorts and a tank top, wearing a large grin. He hadn't boxed in a few years … well not since his usual sparring partner, Trip, had died.

Shaking his head, Jon remembered when he and Trip had tried to show their two sons how to box. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

_"Alright, now … remember the most important part of boxing is to ensure you got your headgear on and your gloves securely fastened," Trip said as he shoved his mouth guard into his mouth and slipped his hand into his glove. _

_"Eddy?" Trip asked. _

_"Wha?" Jon asked as Henry giggled. _

_Trip spit his guard out, "Ready?" _

_The two good-naturedly swung at each other a few times. After Archer's glove connected with Trip's headgear the two stopped. Trip spit out his mouth guard and grinned. _

_"Kinda goes something like that. Now, you boys wanna try?" _

_Archer spit out his mouth guard, took off his gloves, removed his gear and helped the boys into their equipment. As the result of a coin toss, and right before the lesson, Trip had "volunteered" to be the punching bag. With his usual casualness and affability, he'd said, "They're kids, they can't really hurt me." _

_Archer had agreed whole-heartedly, not necessarily because it was true – more because it seemed the thing to do: reassure his friend he would be out of harm's way. _

_Trip covered the fundamentals, hunching over to look the two kids in the eye. Looking from boy to boy, Archer saw confidence in Lorian, as if he were chomping at the bit … and hesitation with Henry, as if he wasn't quite sure how the whole thing was supposed to work. As both boys readied themselves, Archer squatted down to give a few pointers. _

_"Why don't you go first, Henry," Archer suggested. _

_At seven, the kid was gangly, but physically active – just as his father was and mother had been. The captain beamed watching his son take a few shots at Trip, and fatherly encouraged him to keep on the balls of his feet. After landing a punch to Trip's midsection, the engineer playfully blew out a gust of air. _

_"Whew," he said acting breathless. "You really socked me one." _

_Henry laughed and smiled broadly as the engineer gave the kid a wink. _

_Lorian, whose voice was at the cusp of changing, raised his eyebrow. _

_"May I be permitted to try?" _

_Trip righted himself to look at his child with pride. _

_"You bet," Trip said, glowing. _

_When the two began to swing their gloves at each other, Archer continued to give instruction. _

_"Keep up your left, Lorian," Archer said.  
  
_

_Father and son gave each other a blow, but continued to dance, bob and weave – continuing the match. Soon even Archer became silent, watching the two give each other a good workout. Lorian was more physically fit than most boys his age and despite raging hormones, was more coordinated. Gracefully the boy footed around his father, giving the engineer a real match – something neither Archer nor Trip had expected. _

_And then finally, Trip was about to give up when Lorian's glove connected with the engineer's chin in a roundhouse punch, sending his father to the floor. _

_Mouth-agape, Jon looked on in shock as Trip's head hit the mat. _

_"Father!" Lorian said, rushing to his side. Tossing off his gloves and holding the man to him, he profusely apologized. _

_In a daze, Trip gave a wild grin. "Damn, you have a good right." _

_"I'm sorry," Lorian said. But, the boy was met with a dazed grin. _

_"Sorry? Why the hell for?" _

_The Vulcan quipped his brow, peaking it against his forehead. _

_"I think you might be able to beat Mayweather, Hayes or him one day," Trip said, nodding toward Archer. _

_Archer gave a low chuckle as he helped get his friend back on his feet. After Lorian and Trip took off their gear, the boy was finagled into the crook of Trip's arm. Warily, the boy continued to carry a raised brow with him as his eyes reflected the wheels that whirled within his mind. Glancing at his father, he seemed to walk straighter with his shoulders back and a smile that nearly touched both ears. _

_"Can't wait to tell your mother," Trip mumbled. _

_"She doesn't like violence. I doubt she'll agree with the training you've provided," Lorian said in his most logical voice – the one that always reminded Archer of his mother. _

_Trip traced his shoe against the mat, contemplating the information – wanting to argue with his son and wanting to agree. It seemed a shame to spoil the moment, so Archer decided to speak up to recapture it. _

_"Well, I have a feeling the very illogical love she has for her son and husband will override it." _

_Trip gave a satisfied sigh as Lorian watched – skeptical, but quiet. As the captain looked at the 13-year old, he could tell the boy didn't exactly buy the information. He'd heard the kid complain about his mother before, mostly about her lack of emotion despite living around humans. As well as Trip and Lorian got along, T'Pol and Lorian never seemed to click. It sometimes pained Archer to view or hear mother and son interact, mostly because he knew they both loved each other … but had difficulty showing it or understanding how the other felt. _

_Giving Trip a side-ways glance, his engineer was already working out exactly what to say. _

_"Jon's right. Your mom loves you … and me. She may not always say so, you just gotta be looking." With a softened voice and gleaming azure eyes, the man said, "It's important to me you get along with her." _

_Lorian nodded and the four silently headed to the Mess Hall for lunch. When the conversation picked up, Archer purposefully fell a little behind. Draping his an arm around Henry's shoulder, he gave his boy a smirk. _

_"You did good today," he said to his son. "I'm proud of you." _

_Henry beamed back, an easy smile forming on his lips. "I think Uncle Trip let me hit him." _

_Biting back a grin, his eyes focused ahead. White lies, harmless ones that boosted the ego, were acceptable to Jon – like the ones he told to Elyssa on how pretty she looked despite not being able to comb completely through the girl's blonde hair thanks to tangles that came from her fine locks and stained dress. Actually that was never quite a fib, she looked beautiful to him. With a sigh, he watched his son toddle along next to him, struggling to keep his boyish stride in step with Archer's manly one. It was times that this, he wished the boy was just as little younger, so he could pick him up, rest him on his hip and hug him as they walked. _

_"Let him hit you? No," he explained, "you're an Archer." _

_In front, Tucker proudly announced to anyone who walked by his son nearly knocked him out. Slowing his gait and shoving his boy into his side, Archer walked down the hall. _

_'Fathers and sons,' he thought. _

The comfort Trip had with people, the ability to build their esteem and the easy relationship he enjoyed with Lorian – these traits were admirable to Jon. Somehow the engineer always managed to be a good father, and brought out those qualities in others – even Jon himself – especially when the four men would do something together.

The two fathers had shown their boys just about every sport they could imagine, possibly in prideful rivalry hoping their child would be the alpha male.

The day they went boxing was the day it dawned on Archer: the boy who could out run, out fight, out maneuver and out think anyone else would be Lorian Tucker. Although slightly troubled, as most teenage boys are, Lorian held himself with confidence, assuredness and humility. He had Vulcan strength, the species' grace and balance, and their legendary intelligence and wisdom. The only thing he lacked was patience – undoubtedly a gift from his more human side. Another gift from Earth – emotions -- but Archer always saw that as positive.

In a strange way, Trip reminded Jonathan of his own father, Henry. The two had a lot in common: both engineers and both giving their children more than a heart full of love. He gathered both men loved traveling the stars (or his father would've had he been given the chance), taking apart just about anything to see how it worked and the patience and care it took to put that thing back together. Both men were good with people, a quality he noted most engineers didn't have.

Maybe that was the thing that Archer found most perplexing about Lorian – sometimes when he looked at the boy … he saw traces of himself.

For a moment, Archer wondered if that's why he pushed T'Pol into the idea of getting the boy ready to take command of Enterprise.

Snorting away the thought, he stretched out. Being nearly 60, he decided to make sure he warmed up every part of his body – his back had already started bothering him (arthritis), no sense in making it worse. As he crouched onto the floor and touched his toes, Lorian strolled out in a similar outfit. Working out his quads, Jon smiled at the boy. It was odd, the older the boy got, the less he looked like his father and the more he seemed like a mix of both parents. His hair was less blond and more sandy in color. His eyes were less blue and looked somewhat hazel. His nose had a small tip on the end like T'Pol's, but still turned up like Trip's. And the kid, for his age, was small in stature like T'Pol.

After stretching, Archer got up and put on his gloves. Both the Vulcan and the captain decided that they didn't need headgear or mouth guards – after all this was just a friendly match and both were experienced enough to be careful.

"Glad you wanted to do this. I haven't boxed in a long time." He paused as Lorian put everything on. "You remember the last time we did this?"

"Yes," Lorian said with the smallest of frowns.

"You almost knocked your dad unconscious. You did have a killer right." Pausing for a second, he asked, "Do you still box?"

"Yes. I've been doing so with Uncle Malcolm, Mr. Hayes and Mr. Mayweather."

Something troubled Archer about that information. It meant the kid had a lot more recent practice than he did. The last match Archer had was with Hayes, but that was about a year ago.

"Mr. Mayweather said he was one of the only crewmen who could beat you."

Archer laughed, "True enough."

"Hayes the other one?"

"That's right."

"I intend to be the third man, sir."

A worried grin worked his way across his lips. The kid had spunk and gall, which made an interesting combination in a Vulcan. As the two circled around each other, Lorian threw the first punch, a right hook, which Archer dodged effortlessly. The boy was shorter and didn't have the same reach. The boy threw the second punch, an uppercut, which skimmed the air and left him vulnerable; the captain dealt him a jab to his face.

"You want to keep up your left," Archer said.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lorian said as he tossed another punch that landed in the captain's midsection, causing a gush of air to escape his lungs.

"Nice hit," Archer wheezed.

Suddenly, the match became less friendly and more serious. Each man danced on the balls of his feet, waiting to take advantage of the other's weakness … hoping to strike a hit. Soon both realized they had a more equal match than either would've liked. Ten minutes into it, and a few blows later, Lorian decided to address the reason he chose to box.

"I don't want you sleeping with my mother." The kid threw a series of combinations as Archer successfully blocked some and dodged the others.

Archer knocked the boy back with a roundhouse punch to the jaw, nearly knocking him to the ground. As Lorian, stumbled, Archer let down his guard.

"You okay?"

He nodded and gave the man a few jabs to the stomach. "I don't like the fact that two years after your friend, my father died, you seduced her."

"Seduced her?" he asked, breathlessly, defending himself from a series of blows.

Lorian hurled his glove at Archer, sensing he was more vulnerable in the mid-section, and shoved it into his stomach. "Yes."

Jonathan stopped shuffling his feet around. While catching his breath, he said, "Lorian, why don't we stop and talk about this."

Lorian gave Archer a roundhouse across the jaw that sent him tumbling to the ground. Angry, the man got onto his feet and decided he was going to win this fight. The two circled each other, like warriors, hard glints in their eyes. Lorian's gloves seemed intent on landing contact – he wanted to punish his captain for months of trespasses … possibly years of them. Jonathan glared at the boy as if to put the youngster in his place.

Punches, jabs and hooks were thrown, sometimes landing in the spot they were meant to be delivered. Sweat flew off both men, dripping into cuts and bruises on each. Archer's abdomen and left cheek was bruised and his lip was cut and swollen. Lorian's right cheek was a dark green as was the area around his eye and around his chin.

For a second, and after his anger wore off, Archer looked at the boy and regretted his emotions. The boy was upset – it made more sense to talk rather than continue trying to pound their fists into each other.

Archer, continuing to dodge and weave, said, "Look, Lorian … I didn't seduce your mom. And you know how much I liked your father."

Momentarily, Archer saw the kid's eyes soften and decided to stop. "You know how much I like you."

With a little venom, Lorian said, "I suggest you keep moving. You're older and slower than I am."

Archer flung a jab followed by a hook that forced the boy to the floor. "Not that old."

Lorian glared and got to his feet. Jon mentally assailed himself for letting his pride get in the way; he didn't want to be reminded of his age. Hesitating only briefly, Archer decided to try and reason with him again.

Jon said, "When my dad died, it was tough to watch my mother date again. I'm sure you feel angry, jealous, hurt and confused."

Lorian sent a few jabs to the man's ribcage and said. "I'm half-Vulcan. Don't presume to know my emotions or whether I'm feeling anything."

Archer threw a few punches back, one of which managed to strike the boy in the nose, but didn't draw blood.

"You wouldn't be doing this if you weren't mad at me. And I can understand that," he said, wishing he hadn't hit the kid so hard.

"You're my godfather, Captain," he railed. "How could you tear my family, what's left of it, apart?!" His hands flew into Archer's stomach as the older man realized having Vulcan strength was a pretty nice asset to have while gasping for air.

Archer tossed a few punches back to the kid's face, realizing he wasn't keeping up his left. "I'm not trying to tear you apart. I didn't think loving your mother would hurt you so badly. It shouldn't come between the two of you."

"You realize she doesn't love you. She rarely says it to anyone," said the boy, delivering more blows to his stomach.

"I think she does love me," Archer explained.

"She would never say so," Lorian said, tossing another punch as Archer barely dodged it.

"She did," Archer said, seriously. Pain crept into the boy's eyes and his fists began unleashing their power in my force. Taking a few jabs to the rib cage, he delivered a roundhouse to his Lorian's jaw, sending him to the ground. The Vulcan's head swam as he tried to focus his eyes. Attempting to stand, Archer rushed over to him.

"You okay?" he asked. As the boy got up, he launched a glove into Archer's face with all his might.

The decision to throw a punch at this time was illogical, but satisfying. The captain hit the ground with a thud, spilling blood onto the mat; his nose had snapped under the weight of the Vulcan's glove. Hurt and confusion swept over his features, as well as another wave of anger. But, instead of giving into it, he tried to squash it.

"I don't want to fight you, not like this," Archer said.

"Why not?! You don't get it. I idolized you, followed your instructions, and trusted you! How could you do this to me?!"

"Lorian, your mother and I … our intention was never to hurt you."

Watching the boy about to cave in, Archer took a chance – he stood up and wrapped his arms around him as the kid deflated.

"I'm sorry," Jon whispered.

"Don't you see … sorry's not good enough. Knowing you loved her all those years. You were plotting and scheming to …."

"No," he said softly. "I never plotted and schemed. I accepted she loved your dad. It was hard. But, I think part of what helped me start accepting it was holding you in my arms when you were born."

Hoping to add a little humor, Archer said, "You looked just like Trip … except cute."

The captain gave a slight smile, remembering the tiny creature with expressive blue eyes, copper skin and pointed ears.

"You were absolutely amazing. You just looked up at me with such curiosity and wonder, Lorian."

Archer backed off a little and added, "I never would've broken up your family, and your mother would've let me."

"Then why now?" asked Lorian.

Jon sighed, "Because how I feel about her is out in the open. Because I'm lucky enough to have your mom's feelings returned. Because I think being together will make us happy."

"Us? I don't feel happy."

"Maybe if you give me a chance, you will. I don't think our relationship has to change, Lorian. I've always cared about you."

Still somewhat unconvinced, the Vulcan remained quiet.

"Let's just give it time," Archer suggested.

Without agreeing, the boy said, "I apologize for hurting you."

Archer gave a lopsided grin. "I think you broke a rib."

"I did that well?" asked the kid with a smirk.

"Yeah. Want to help me Sickbay?"

"Certainly." After a brief pause, he asked, "Does this mean I can tell Mayweather I bested you?"

"I guess so," Archer replied.

Jon put his arm around Lorian and leaned on him all the way to the medical facility.

_A vacation. Trip and T'Pol (well, more him than her) were looking for some rest and relaxation, and wanted Lorian's godfather to care for him. Archer was unsure about all the duties a father had, other than watching Trip when he joined the Tucker family over at their house. _

_He wasn't sure he was up for the task, but thought the couple needed time to themselves – as every couple does. After all, having a child was a lot of work … at least that's what he heard from the mothers and fathers on board. _

_As Trip and T'Pol waved goodbye to their child, he didn't cry. Nor did he mind being in new quarters with his godfather. Instead, he quietly read and kept himself amused. While Lorian flipped through the pages of the astronomy book that he'd collected from Archer's shelf, the captain watched him. Sensing the man staring at him, he looked up and gave a slightly raised eyebrow and a pout. _

_"Sorry, I was … do you want me to read that to you?" he asked. _

_"I can read. My mother taught me." _

_Archer already knew that, but felt like he needed to ask anyway. _

_"Even the big words?" Archer asked. "Do you know what the cover says?" _

_"I have trouble with some of the big words. But, Dad reads those to me." _

_"Well, I'm not Trip … uhm, your dad … but, I'd love to read to you." _

_Guardedly the boy agreed and Jon crossed over and sat on the floor. Lifting the book so he could see, he began to read all the information he'd learned as a child – the stars, the planets, suns, pulsars, quasars and more. As the pages flew by, Lorian settled against Jon's chest, leaning into him, and continued to focus on every word and every picture. _

_As Jon finally closed the book, he noted the time. It was already past 1900 hours, and one hour after Lorian's usual bedtime. _

_"Are you sleepy?" Archer asked. _

_"No," he said. _

_But, as he said the words, his little blue eyes closed and then opened in a flash, fighting to stay focused. Lifting him up, Archer helped the boy put on his pajamas, brush his teeth, wash his face and comb his hair. When they'd gotten to combing Lorian's tangled hair, the boy nearly fell asleep standing up. With a soft chuckle, the captain laid him onto the bed, tucked him in and watched him sleep and dream. _

_The next two days were exactly like that, except possibly better. Lorian sat in the Ready Room, petted Porthos, looked at all the captain's books, asked tons of questions, took naps and sat in the captain's chair, cracking a smile. _

_"I want to sit where you do one day," he said, gazing up at the captain. _

_"Maybe you will," he responded, doubting that was true. Lorian would remain tiny forever. _

_The two were inseparable, until his parents came back. Again, Lorian didn't cry or throw a fit, instead, he grabbed Trip's hand and waved goodbye to Jon. _

_The memory of those few days was wonderful. And, despite being punched or noticing the boy growing up, in a way he would always be the little guy who wanted to sit in the captain's chair and fell asleep standing up while having his hair combed. _

As they walked into Sickbay, Jon decided to mention the conversation he had with T'Pol – the one where he wanted to teach Lorian everything he needed to know to succeed his mother as captain.

"You know, I'm not as young as I used to be. Maybe I can show you the more detailed information about being captain. Would you like that?"

Skeptical. The Vulcan, though sometimes impulsive like Trip, would try and restrain that reaction whenever possible – always with varying degrees of success. Scanning his eyes over the captain, he wondered why he had been chosen over Henry or any other child aboard. Perhaps, the boy reasoned, the captain was trying to garner favor.

"I'll think about it and get back to you," said the Vulcan. Lorian wasn't interested in letting Jon off the hook so quickly, though sorry he'd punched the man so brutally.

Archer smiled. "I haven't really thought about anyone else, so you have plenty of time."

The smile … and the man … seemed genuine – maybe that was something that was charming about him. Staring into the green eyes and looking over his gray hair and fine wrinkles, he uncovered the truth. Archer, in a way, loved him. It wasn't the sighing romantic love he had for his mother, which he now supposed was just as real, but it was the type that possibly Lorian felt for him. It was based on mutual respect and years of proximity, but had nuances – in essence they'd always cared for the same things: family, the Tuckers, the crew, the ship and the stars.

"I appreciate that you thought of me," Lorian said.

Archer ruffled his hair and felt the twinge of his rib as Phlox and his daughter, Lizel, walked over and began treating him.

"Ah, Captain Archer!" greeted the young Denobulan woman, strolling over to treat him. Her smile overtook her entire face and her piercing blue eyes seemed to glow.

Acknowledging the woman and following her every order, he eventually glanced over to Lorian. "We never talked about what I'd intended to."

The Vulcan nodded – knowing what was coming. It hurt and surprised him that his mother had told the captain she loved him – hurt because it had been something she rarely said to him and surprised because he had assumed his mother was colder than she apparently was.

Logically, it made sense. Her actions indicated she was in love – the sway of her hips, the additional minutes in front of the mirror primping every morning and the way she watched Archer now through half-closed lids.

They were both in love now. And, Archer seemed like the sort of man who'd want to remarry and formally recognize his feelings for her.

"You want to marry her?" Lorian asked.

Lizel widened her eyes and decided it was an apropos time to collect a scanner and a hypospray. She had her father's discretion and her mother's sensibility to even keep from eavesdropping, despite her curiosity.

Dropping his chin only by centimeters, Archer corrected, "I was hoping you'd move in."

Lorian detected a missing word that the man had every intention of saying: first. _I was hoping you'd move in first._

"That means you, too, Lorian."

The Vulcan stared at his feet.

"It's too fast for you?" Archer asked gently.

Silence filled the room, interrupting the chirping creatures in their cages, the soft hum of the engines that was ever-present and even the human's breath.

"Think about it," Archer said, a little sadly.

Lorian gave a slight nod.

"Maybe in the meantime, you can call me Jon. Your father used to."

His eyebrow peaked uncontrollably. "You've always been Captain Archer."

As Lizel made her way back with a hypospray and a rib setter, Archer bobbed his head in agreement with a sigh. It was the type of head nod someone who didn't really agree gave to placate others.

"You can think about that, too."

Lorian was about to object, when Archer said, "Just give it time. Looks like we have plenty of it."

"Captain, you'll need to remain still for me to set this rib properly," Lizel said.

Lorian took that as his cue to exit, but seemed hesitant to leave the captain's side.

"Don't worry about me," he said, nodding toward the door. "I told your mom we'd be back about an hour ago."

"I'm sorry again," Lorian said.

"For beating up an old man?"

Lorian bit back a grin at the tease. "No."

Archer winked. "I know."

And it seemed he did. Stepping onto his heel and turning around he filed out of Sickbay. Walking down the corridors he thought to himself that until he was comfortable with the arrangement, his mother and … Jon … wouldn't go forward with their plans to cohabitate. On the one hand, it made him feel powerful – he was glad to be able to call the shots for a change, but on the other hand, it meant denying their happiness.

Before he made a decision, he'd need to talk with his mother.


	12. Consequences

**Nothing but Time**

**Consequences**

Before stepping inside the quarters Lorian shared with his mother, he took a deep breath – something he'd learned that Vulcans do when they're nervous, although Vulcans would never call it that. _Nervous _was an emotion.

Throwing back his shoulders and stifling feeling, he strolled inside and received exactly the sort of welcome he'd expected.

Rising steadily from her chair, leaving a steaming cup of tea on the side table, T'Pol was almost startled.

"What happened to you?"

"I believed you were aware that Captain Archer," he began – he couldn't make himself say Jon, "and I boxed."

She knew that was the plan, but by the concern in her eyes, he could tell she didn't expect him to sport any bruises, welts, cuts or other physical damage from the activity. A hand tentatively reached up to touch a contusion on his cheek and then before it could caress his skin, it fell limply to her side.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I suppose he won?" she asked, with more contempt than he expected.

"No." His eyes met hers. "I did."

Surprise winkled her brow. "Where is he?"

"Sickbay."

Her eyes widened with concern.

"He has two broken ribs and a broken nose."

Lorian was already two steps ahead. "He's fine, Mother."

More to herself than anyone, she said, "I did caution him against this." Looking into her son's eyes, she said more carefully and pointedly, "I also cautioned _you _against this."

He expected this as well. With more of a sigh than he wanted to let escape his lips, he trudged over to a chair to sit down.

"Captain Archer said he wanted us to live with him."

T'Pol licked her lips and walked back to her chair and her mug of tea. It seemed this wasn't the discussion she wanted to have; she wanted to get to the bottom of the fight, but he was unprepared to let that happen.

"Yes," she answered.

"Is this what you want?" he asked.

"It seems like the next logical step."

His mother never could answer a straight question – a charge that his father had leveled against her many times, sometimes with amusement.

"And what about the one after that?" he asked. "What's the next logical step?"

Blinking slowly, she turned away.

"Marriage?" he asked, after waiting more than a full minute in silence.

"Perhaps."

"You said you love him -- yes?" Maybe a 'yes' or 'no' question would prompt her to give him a plain answer.

"Yes," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"Love is an emotion," he said, stiffly. "Vulcans don't feel emotion."

"They feel emotion, but they choose to suppress it," she countered. "Vulcans even feel love. I felt that emotion for your father. I feel it for you."

Lorian stared into her eyes and whispered, "Vulcans have no word for love, no thought of it or knowledge. I know, being Vulcan that emotions are difficult to sort through and understand. Many of our emotions are more powerful, more demanding. And yet – love is an emotion that seems almost out of reach."

T'Pol acknowledged Vulcans had trouble naming a feeling and assigning it a word with it. The tickling in her stomach as a child didn't have a name until she was introduced to the Kolinahr; afterward, she determined it was happiness. But, living until her mid-eighties allowed her to discern many of her own emotions; though it was rarely easy. One feeling was facile to pinpoint: being around Jonathan made her happy, well … possibly not right now after he'd injured her son.

"I can accept you had love for Father."

That was peculiar. "Why your father and not Jonathan?"

"You married Dad. He always indicated it was beyond logical, and yet logical. Marriage indicated a commitment to feelings."

"I have many of the same feelings for Jonathan that I had for your father."

"No, or else you would marry him."

T'Pol's brow furrowed. She would … maybe … if her son felt differently.

"Why are you insistent that I don't love him?"

"Why are you so insistent that you do?"

They were at an impasse. T'Pol _felt_ love – the subtle skip of her heart when Jonathan was entered the room, the silly painful ache when he left and the lust that spread throughout her body when she saw him, like after when he'd finished working out at the gym. It was the same way she needed Trip – the same longing, the same yearning. This feeling, the one that languished around her body was definitely love.

Lorian was certain his mother, who'd never really loved anyone, could never feel anything for the man or really anyone else. On rare occasions, she admitted she loved him or his father, it seemed implausible she could feel that way about the captain, especially in such a short time. More likely it was loneliness and friendship with the illusion of lust.

"What are you going to gain by living with him?" he asked.

That not only silenced her, it either stumped her or the words she wanted to say were too complicated to express. Studying her son, she opened her mouth and hesitated again.

"I want to be with him," she said in a hushed voice. It wasn't about sex, although she had to admit that was a small part of it; it was the feeling of waking up next to him every morning with his arm around her middle just like she'd experienced on the rare times she'd been able to be with him. Having him with her was … comforting and indulgent, like sipping a glass of champagne.

With worry shining in her eyes, she seemed to search her son to see if those words pained him.

"Then why the hesitation about marriage?" he asked, doing his best to be logical. "Vulcans remarry."

"I have no answers for you."

Sighing, the boy decided if his mother wanted to live with Archer so badly, she could do so on her own.

"You don't need me to live with you," he said. "I could continue to live in this room. Here."

Staring at her own feet, she whispered, "No. It's important to me we are together."

"Why?" he asked. "It's not logical."

"You're my son. I … care for you."

_'Care?' the boy thought. 'Was it so easy to admit love for Archer and not for your own son?'_

In his mind he decided that he and his mother would never be able to have the warm relationship Toru and Mrs. Hoshi Hayes had. It wouldn't be the kind of love that Mrs. Mayweather gave her son or the type Mrs. Phlox showed on Xan, Zeke and Sigmund. It was a pity that their relationship would never be loving; maybe that's why he was punishing her with his decision.

* * *

It was a difficult conversation – no, that was an understatement. It was an impossible conversation that had Archer dancing faster than he did while boxing with T'Pol's son.

It had started badly. She'd come to his room, asked his children to leave momentarily and then lit into him – Vulcanly of course, but Archer got the idea: she was _mad_.

"What possessed you two to fight so brutally?" she asked, her voice straining.

His mouth hung open, waiting to answer, without getting the opportunity.

"I've seen you and Trip box before. Neither of you damaged each other," she said.

"You're –" he began to say.

"But this? Why? Why would harm a sixteen-year old boy? Why would you harm my son?"

He'd known this moment was coming and could only sit still as her somewhat stoic tongue lashed out for ten minutes – leveling accusations and mal intent, and assigning shameful pride to his actions. Each word slapped against his ego and heart, punishing him for his mistakes. And granted, slamming punches against Lorian was a mistake.

As she continued on her quiet tirade, excuses built up in his brain, including childish ones like, _'He started it!'_ But, rather than utter those words, he waited silently until she finished. After all, he was a father himself – he should've known better; if Malcolm had pummeled Henry, the tactical officer would feel his wrath. In Archer's code of ethics, a parent's primary responsibility was to protect his or her children. If T'Pol hadn't been pissed off, he would've been disappointed in her.

More importantly -- Lorian was his godson; when he agreed to the title of godfather, he'd in his mind sworn protection and love. Guarding Lorian was important – it was vital. Now, he had to admit he failed that oath. That also meant he'd failed T'Pol.

After pacing around the room, speaking harshly to him (which was rare) and giving him more than one cold stare, she paused to allow him to speak in his own defense and was satisfied when he didn't have one.

"You're right. I'm sorry," he whispered.

Eying the floor, she nodded her head. Because she'd known the man such a long time, she understood how difficult admitting he was wrong was – not that it made the circumstances any better.

"I didn't mean to hurt him, and I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt me," Archer said. That last part was mostly true, Lorian probably didn't set out to kick his ass; Lorian had just let his anger get the better of him, and truth be told so had he.

"I know," she said weakly. "I believed you two would fight out your aggression, but …."

It was clear she hadn't expected to see her son injured.

"Is he okay?" he asked.

Glancing over the bluish, purple smudge that ran over his nose and under his green eyes, she raised an eyebrow. "Better than you."

He smirked, hopeful that she was over her anger. The response it elicited was not what he anticipated: narrowed eyes; he let his half smile fall. She was over much of her anger, but certainly not all of it.

"What happened?" she asked.

Going into as much detail as he could, he explained the events. If a Vulcan could cringe, he would've seen her do so several times over. Instead, she seemed to stop breathing for a moment and then filled her lungs to capacity, letting air audibly rush into her nose. When everything that needed to be said was uttered, T'Pol was clear on what happened and let her mind ruminate over the situation.

Waiting for something to be said, Archer decided to give into the hush that fell over the room and fought the instinct to let a few words fill the void.

"He needs more time," she finally delivered, unraveling her hands.

Archer could only nod in agreement.

"Are you okay with us?" he asked.

That matter deserved serious consideration. She was disappointed in Jonathan in a way she'd never been, or hadn't been since possibly the first year she served with him. She'd never expected such emotionality from him; it was unfathomable to her that he would do something to her son.

"You said father and sons sometimes come to blows?" she asked.

He furrowed his brow. "Sometimes. That's right."

"But, you are not his father."

"No," he said, agreeing. "But, maybe I'm as close to one, right now, as he's got."

With a mouth twitch, he could tell she agreed with that statement, though she said nothing.

"So, what happens next?" he asked.

The answer was simple, but complicated to explain to him. T'Pol loved her son, though it was hard to say, mostly because the young man was more Vulcan than he'd wanted to admit … and so was she. There'd been a few times during his life, where the words sprang to her lips and as she nearly spoke them aloud, she'd spy his tiny Vulcan ears and think back on her own parents beliefs – rigid logic was the only thing Vulcan children should be made to understand. It always stopped her mouth, but usually allowed her to stroke the child's hair. Vulcans expressing love to those who didn't welcome it was never uncomplicated.

T'Pol also loved Jonathan; saying it to him was easier because he rewarded it, welcoming her words with open arms, smiling eyes, caresses and always the affirmation he felt the same way. When she'd first let those words fall from her lips, his mouth met hers in a crushing kiss, as if she'd said something that he'd been waiting to hear most of his life. The experience still left what she'd heard humans call "butterflies" in her stomach.

No matter how she felt about either man, she was a mother and mothers care for their sons first and foremost. Lorian didn't want to be part of the Archer family, and thus she wouldn't subject him to it. And if she had to choose between her son and her lover, she would doggedly choose her son every time.

"Perhaps we should let our relationship cool," she said.

The words traveled along his spine and seemingly punched him in the kidneys; those words wounded him. With downcast eyes, he nodded and wondered what that "cool" meant, but felt there wasn't more he could ask or should at that point.

The problem was, he couldn't disagree. If his children had volunteered that they didn't want T'Pol in their lives, he would probably sacrifice his feelings, hoping his children would change their minds and love T'Pol secretly and privately as he'd done for years, trying not to show it. It was obvious T'Pol was trying to do the same for her son.

Very timidly, she added, "That does not change the way I feel about you."

"I understand," he said.

Tiredly, with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, he shuffled behind her to the door. As he leaned against it, she touched his face -- a gentle caress.

"I hope you do understand," she whispered, letting her lips graze his cheek.

As she slipped out of his quarters and whisked down the hall with her typical grace, Archer stared after her. Without giving much intention to the action, his eyes shot over toward his room where in his dresser a ring in a box sat in the bottom of his sock drawer. He'd purchased it two months ago … maybe even three … waiting for the right moment to ask her to be his wife. It seemed that day would have to wait a little longer, if not indefinitely.

With a sigh, he wondered if the reason he wanted her to move in was so she could accidentally come across it in the everyday happenstance of living. It wasn't like him to be so cowardly, but it was just like him to protect himself from feeling pain.

It didn't always work.

* * *

_Two Months Later_

One of the scariest moments ever to face the crew came on them quickly and without warning. Denobulans aged elegantly, just as Phlox had done. White tinged his hair, wrinkles sprouted around his iridescent eyes and his colorful spots darkened to nearly tan. Each day that passed made the man look more and more like Albert Einstein – smart, odd and lovable. That's why it was nearly impossible to imagine that the doctor would fall ill.

Since Trip's death, Archer had wondered darkly who would be next. It was scientific fact that people died; no one lived forever, but he never expected Phlox's health to decline or to do so suddenly and without provocation.

Phlox had a Denobulan version of a heart attack late one night. In a panic, Amanda had raced him into Sickbay and stayed by his side, leaving Zara to take care of the fiver younger children, with some of the adults helping out as much as possible, and promoted Lizel to chief physician to tend to her father. Just as he had taken a turn for the better, Lizel confirmed he'd been stricken with pneumonia – an ailment that had been wiped out before WWIII … and the cure along with it. That's when she'd called Archer proclaiming she didn't think he had long to live.

When the captain entered, he noticed right away how pale and thin his friend seemed stretched over the biobed. The most telling symptom of death was the stench in the air; it reminded him of his father, just days before the end. Slowly, Archer's boots clapped against the deck plating and he leaned over to look into the eyes of the Denobulan.

"I never expected to be on this side," Phlox murmured as he attempted to smile.

"I think you just need some rest. You're not as young as you used to be." After giving a small smile, he clarified, "Well, I guess none of us are."

"I've instructed Lizel on the vaccinations to give and who's up for their annual physical," Phlox said. "I've documented everything."

Archer shook his head. "You're supposed to relax."

Lizel wandered closer to the two men, hypospray in hand. "It's no good," she mentioned. "He won't listen to his doctor."

"Doctors always make the worst patients," Archer teased, hoping to ease the tension.

The fact that Phlox didn't come back with a good-natured barb, but blinked slowly reinforced things were dire. Archer trusted Lizel, especially since she'd begun working with Phlox going over the crew's medical needs, but was worried – she'd only been involved in the program roughly six months. That was hardly enough time to understand all the crew's medical nuances and needs.

It wasn't just his position that made him irreplaceable; everyone loved Phlox. Hoshi had come by at least once a day to check on him, T'Pol had brought the man tea as often as possible, Mayweather checked in from time to time, Reed made excuses to drop by … nearly every crewman had hovered around the man willing him to continue. It's why today was so painful.

"My daughter thinks I won't make it," Phlox said, quietly. It wasn't a joke.

Lizel hid a sniffle, provided a hypospray and said, "I didn't say that, Pop."

"I doubt you'd give in so easily, Doc," Archer said with encouragement.

Silence fell over the room; Phlox wished to disagree, but felt something had been on his chest for years, demons and secrets needed to be revealed before the end. He thought it'd be easier on everyone now.

"One of the hardest tasks of being a doctor is keeping secrets, even those you want to tell." Turning his head toward the door he admitted, "I've had so many."

It'd been a long time since Phlox and he had spoken of T'Pol's trellium addiction. A long time ago, that secret had caused Archer to break into a shouting match with the doctor, arguing that the captain should know _everythin_g that happens to the crew. It had been the same argument he'd had with the man when T'Pol was suffering with Pa'nar, except more angry and explosive, forcing them both to avoid each other for a few weeks.

"I've already forgiven you," Archer said with confusion, misunderstanding the doctor's motives.

"You knew about Trip?" Phlox asked.

Archer took a step back. "I –"

"I should've known he'd tell you and Malcolm. I'm sorry there wasn't more I could do for him."

"Doc …?"

"Isn't it amazing that modern technology and science can cure so many ailments and yet some cancers are still impossible to treat? Even simple diseases seem can't be treated."

"What?"

"Trip's cancer, T'Pol's trellium, my pneumonia."

"Trip was sick?"

With a sigh, Phlox watched the ceiling. It was evident he didn't mean to divulge so much, and yet he hoped to get everything he possibly could off his chest; in the long it would help the relationship Archer might have with T'Pol … at least some day. With resolve, the man continued, eager to speak the words aloud that would ultimately give his soul – at least what it meant to a Denobulan – rest.

"The tumor in his brain that was inoperable. I'd given him seven months to live – that was roughly six years even before his shuttle exploded. I wouldn't have thought he'd live so long. I guess there's something to be said for happiness staving off disease."

Heavy with emotion, Archer grabbed at the bed. "I don't understand. He would've died anyway?"

None of this made any sense. Everything that Archer had come to understand and hold true for the last few years since Trip's death were up for discussion and debate. His mind reeled and his heart thumped against his chest.

"He didn't want anyone to know. I encouraged him to open up to T'Pol, but he said he couldn't utter the words … especially when he looked at his child. It's funny, now's the first time I can understand why."

Archer's hand wrapped around the physician's without reluctance. He wrestled with the information a little, but focused primarily on his friend. Hubris was the captain's strength … and weakness; it was the kind that made it easy to believe the universe and all the forces in it bent to his will. Sometimes, from the crew's perspective, it certainly seemed he was winning against the universe, but they didn't know the things that really mattered never came to light. Now, he summoned that hubris and begged Phlox not to die. No one was ready for that to happen, not Amanda, not his six children and certainly not the crew.

Phlox's eyes fluttered close and his chest rose and fell just enough to make Archer sigh in relief; the physician wasn't dead yet.

Dropping his hand carefully he watched over him for a moment and thought about the night he'd played poker with Malcolm, Travis and Trip and how at the end of the evening, Trip had become somewhat emotional, accusing him of being in love T'Pol before Trip and she ever married. The engineer had asked … almost begged to be forgiven. If Trip knew six years in advance, he probably knew the night of the poker party … and maybe that had even spurred his need to be absolved.

Strangely enough, it was Trip's words after Esilia's funeral that had always been the most puzzling … but it was starting to make sense.

_"Jon, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I'm sure she wishes she could be here with you – with Henry and Elyssa. I'm sure she loved you all very much," Trip whispered as the crew dispersed and Archer hung near the area where his wife's body had been launched into space in the vessel of a torpedo. _

_It was difficult to know how he felt, the only thing he could hear other than his racing heart was the crying of his two children who clung to him. Henry had buried his face against his own tiny hands and sniffled almost rhythmically. Maybe even worse than missing his wife, it hurt to know his children were suffering. _

_Archer gave a weak nod, resting his hand on his daughter's hair as her wet nose and eyes stained his pant leg with unbridled tears. _

_"I can't imagine having to leave your family," Trip said, letting a few tears run down his face. I'm sure she never thought this would happen. I'm sure she never wanted to go away." _

_Dragging his eyes off the floor, he stared at his friend. He'd seen Trip cry before, but he didn't expect tears to gush from his eyes like water streaming out of a cracked dam. _

_As the two stared at each other, there was something like a spark of realization. The recognition of what, though? Maybe the truth was simple: Trip knew that Esilia wouldn't be able to carry another child and hid the information from him. The very idea seemed to set ablaze an anger that swelled within him. _

_"I wish she'd told me," Archer heard himself say, without trying to form the words. _

_The remark was dripping with all the things he hadn't meant to divulge – spite, bitterness and remorse, but it was all the feelings he'd been bottling up since Phlox gingerly draped the white sheet over Esilia's expressionless face. _

_"Don't be angry. I'm sure she did what she thought was best," Trip said. As if there were more to the man's words, the engineer placed an unsteady hand on his shoulder. _

_The words and movement were so tender that Elyssa wailed with more fervor, forcing her to muffle her sniffles into his leg. Archer's thoughts derailed as he picked up his daughter and held her to his chest, still wrapping an arm around his son. _

_"Do you need help?" T'Pol asked, joining them finally after talking quietly and patiently to her son. Archer had seen the two out of the corner of his eye as she crouched down, dried Lorian's eyes and undoubtedly explained loss. _

_"No," Archer said. "I think we're all pretty tired." _

_   
"You can come to us any time you need," Trip said. _

_Resolutely, he gave a sharp nod and stiffly led his children out the door. _

_After making small talk with his children, listening to them opening up and reeling off their pain and confusion, he carried them into their bed -- tucking them in, giving them a kiss, and promising to leave the light on just a little. When that was done, he forced his body into the bed he'd shared with his wife for five years and smelled her pillow. It was everything he could do to prevent water from forming in his eyes. _

For years Archer'd assumed Trip knew, but now … he wondered if Trip never knew about Esilia's condition. Maybe the man was saying all the things he'd want someone to say to T'Pol and Lorian, knowing his own mortality was close at hand.

It brought into clarity many confusing conversations throughout the years, and gave him a peculiar peace of mind.

Terrified to watch the doctor die, Archer looked down at Phlox until he noticed the doctor's filled his lungs with air and exhaled again. With a patient sigh, he recalled he sometimes stared at his children – just to make sure they were only asleep. It was something he'd done ever since Henry was born; it was important to see his little boy bat his resting eyes in a dream or catch him stirring gently.

Walking over, Lizel stroked her father's hair gently, wrapping the soft white hair around her fingers thoughtfully.

"I've always wanted to be like him, Captain," she whispered.

A lump formed readily in his throat as he watched on – father and daughter.

"Whatever it takes to save him –" Archer said, letting his words trail off.

"I'll let you know," she said.

Archer reluctantly left the medical facility, praying for miracle with every step he took toward the Bridge. He didn't want to see disappointment when he arrived; he'd be able to see the quiet desperation on T'Pol's face or the crushing defeat in Hoshi's – he'd rather face the Xindi than disappointment from his crew.

When he stepped out of the turbolift, he didn't respond. Instead, he climbed glumly into his chair and stared ahead at the view screen. As he did so, he surmised dying quickly was easier than slowly – being in pain all the time – and hoped Phlox wasn't suffering. Those thoughts led to less happy ones: Trip was probably feeling the same way. Did he plan his own death so carefully that no one would ever know, or was it a coincidence of fate that he was taken in an instant? Neither answer was particularly cheerful, and certainly neither would cause anyone to love Trip any more or any less.

Maybe if Phlox had to go, he'd go quickly and painlessly, too.

"Dr. Phlox?" T'Pol finally asked.

"Lizel doesn't know," he lied. Lying in this case would be better for everyone.

Leaving her station, the science officer crossed in front of his chair and asked quietly, "May I see you in your Ready Room?"

Gazing into her eyes, he hardened a little, hoping to give her the indication he wasn't ready to talk. Unfortunately, she seemed resolute – she wasn't willing to back down, not this time.

The two moved over the Bridge and entered his small office. As soon as he collapsed into his chair, she watched him expectantly.

"He's near death, isn't he?"

"I don't know, T'Pol."

Crossing her arms and folding them over her chest, as if to hug herself, she gave a little frown. Two months ago her relationship with Archer hadn't just cooled it had nearly come to an end. And yet, the two continued to let their eyes linger on each other as if they were longing to be in each other's arms. When she was in his Ready Room, it was always hardest to accept that she had asked to put their relationship on hiatus until Lorian accepted him … _if _Lorian accepted him.

"Lizel doesn't have enough training to become a doctor," she said.

"He's not dead yet," he said.

Stalking closer to his desk, her eyes shifted down to him. "Jonathan …."

It was always hardest when she used his first name to treat her like he once did – as a friend rather than a woman. Hurt reflected in her eyes and he knew she was aware of how serious Phlox's condition was. He yearned to comfort her—wrap his arms around her and hold her to him … even if a Vulcan claimed didn't need the reassurance; he knew she did.

"What?" he asked.

"He does not have long to live. I've already spoken to Lizel."

Wearily, he made his way to stand next to her – allowing him room to pace or hug her, whichever happened first. Throwing his eyes to the floor, he shrugged.

"You don't know for sure."

"I would speculate it's a matter of days," she said.

Meeting her eyes, he said in such a hushed tone it barely came out. "Seems that way."

His hands found her shoulders, just like they always had when bad news was delivered, and instead of feeling her stiffen, she relaxed. It prompted him touch her cheek and stroke it gently.

"I'm sorry," he said. He uttered the words for many reasons.

"As am I," she whispered.

"There's still a chance," he said obstinately.

Ever so slightly, her cheek rubbed against his hand, nuzzling it. The act took him by surprise only because it'd been so long since either had admitted their feelings or since they'd touched. Like electricity, his body tingled and he fought the urge to kiss her passionately, settling on allowing his lips to graze her temple and his hands to hold her back, pressing her against him.

After a few minutes passed, T'Pol confessed, "Phlox told me this morning."

Holding his breath, he waited to hear more.

"He told me about Trip," she said.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again into her hair.

The two held each other for close to ten minutes without any words spoken between them, him comforting her and her permitting him to do so. And then the Vulcan withdrew by millimeters and the captain let her go back to her station back and to her life. As the door shut, Archer took a deep breath and fell into the rhythm of an abnormal day, trying not to ponder about her or their interaction.


	13. Love, Death and Time

**Nothing but Time**

**Love, Death and Time**

_One week later _

It was the kind of miracle that made Archer question whether there was a deity, or time traveling men bringing cures back from the future or in this case the past. Whatever it was – he didn't care. At the last possible hour to save Phlox, T'Pol, Cutler and Lizel, working round the clock, had found a mix of drugs that would alleviate his heart palpitations and cure his pneumonia; in other words: Phlox would live. His mobility would be reduced and he'd be on a new diet, but when Archer walked into Sickbay, he'd see the over-extended smile on the doctor. That was definitely something to celebrate.

A ship-wide announcement had been made over the loud speaker and cheers could be heard nearly all over the ship. The only negative impact of Phlox's amazing recovery had been the complete exhaustion of T'Pol. Elizabeth Cutler had assisted throughout the night, but had been ordered by T'Pol to rest for a few hours. Lizel who was half-Denobulan, had been tired, but not exhausted; her sleep cycle wasn't for another 37 days.

A beaming Archer entered the medical facility, and then his face fell flat after looking at T'Pol. Gaunt, with sunken eyes, she appeared to have not only waved off sleep, but food as well. His brow furrowed at her and he quickened his footsteps toward the lab where her ghost-like figure was barely holding itself up.

"You all right?" asked Archer.

T'Pol, nodded her head and Lizel responded with a face-swallowing smile.

"Outstanding _now_, sir," she said, echoing through the room.

He would've smiled if he hadn't been so concerned about his waif-ish friend. Ignoring the need to _order_ her to get some sleep, which she would shake off, he softened his voice and turned to T'Pol.

"Maybe you should get some sleep," Archer suggested.

"I want to ensure the last treatment we provided Dr. Phlox was …."

Lizel hastened to counter, "He'll be fine. I think you should rest. You've been up for three days straight. I know even Vulcans can't even keep up that pace."

Watching the stubborn woman about to decline the suggestion, Lizel spoke with a little more authority. "As your physician, I recommend it."

The Vulcan's shoulder's sagged and she shuffled to the door as the captain walked beside her, ready to put on arm around her to support her, but trying to give her space enough to drag herself to her room. He knew her well enough to know she'd insist on getting to her quarters on her own two feet, and without any assistance from anyone.

"It appears you were correct," T'Pol said quietly. "Phlox lived."

"It was more a hope than a prediction. I didn't want Phlox to die; I just couldn't imagine it happening." After giving her a small wink he said, "Actually you helped that prediction come true. I can't tell you how grateful everyone is."

"No more so than I," she said, thinking fondly of her friend.

Nodding, he continued to walk, noticing her lithe frame forcing itself forward.

Out of the blue, T'Pol asked, "Did you expect Esilia or Trip to die?"

As they stopped in front of her door, his eyes searched hers.

"No," he said.

"You haven't said anything about Trip. By your reaction, it seems Dr. Phlox also told you?"

Archer never really had a poker face; his eyes, cheeks and mouth were more expressive than he ever wanted them to be. Entering her pass code, he wrapped his arm around her and helped to her to a nearby chair, and was pleased that she gave into his assistance.

"No, I haven't. I don't think anything needs to be said."

As she settled against a pillow, she whispered, "I think in the end, his act was noble. Although I wished he'd told me … I admire him for it."

More to herself than to Jonathan, she said, "I wonder about the shuttlepod …."

Seeing the knot form between her slanted brows, it appeared she'd also questioned whether his death was suicide.

"I doubt Trip would do that. Phlox indicated he outlived his death sentence by several years," he said. "He wouldn't give up like that. I don't think he'd ever have given up."

Lowering her eyes to the ground, she gave a slight nod.

She asked, "Did you feel that way about Esilia? I … know she didn't tell you beforehand about her pregnancy."

With a small sigh, he answered, "I don't know. I'm not angry at her anymore. But, I still wish that Elyssa and Henry had their mother back."

"I'm sorry," T'Pol said. Unblinking her eyes glistened just a fraction, what Archer guessed was the consequence of being overtired.

"Don't be."

As he spoke the words, he let his nose fill with the scent of her myrrh incense – it smelled like her hair and reminded him of how he'd enjoyed draping his body around hers and tucking the crown of her head under his chin so he could soak up that aroma even as he slept. It brought back memories of the time they actually had the morning to themselves and how he'd feigned sleep just to hold her for a few moments longer.

Shelving those thoughts, he bent down, unzipped her shoes, pulled off her socks, and smiled down at her skinny, naked feet. He missed seeing them. Actually, he missed seeing a lot more than just her feet – it prompted him to ruminate momentarily about taking one of her toes into his mouth and nibbling on it.

"Would you like to stay with me?" she asked.

His heart leapt into his mouth.

Eventually finding the words, he asked, "What do you want me to do?" His hand caressed the hair at her forehead and temple.

"Be here when I fall asleep."

"Okay."

Although tired, her lips found themselves close to his, desperately wanting to connect with his mouth. Instead of giving in, she continued to gaze into his eyes, and eventually Archer decided her plea was one of comfort, rather than love. Keeping her gaze, he brushed his fingertips against her hair again and thought about how baby fine her tresses were.

With emotion plaguing her voice, she whispered, "You've always been there for me."

"Not always, but I've always wanted to be."

Before he gave into the need to kiss her, he picked her up, carried her to her room and lay her down on her bed. Dismissing the thought of disrobing her, mostly because he'd enjoy it too much, he drew the covers over and around her.

Blinking slowly, she snuggled into the blankets and wondered what was next. And then before she could reflect any further about how she wanted him to nap beside her and feel him nibble on her neck as he did only months ago, her lids slowed their movement and then stopped.

Petting her hair and watching over her, he felt in the core of his soul like this was where he belonged. Then with hesitation, he corrected himself – he knew where he really belonged was under the covers with her, stripped down to what he wore to bed – her cool skin against his.

As the Vulcan drew heavy breaths, he recognized she was asleep. For almost thirty minutes, he looked at her, noticing the tiny crow's feet that sprouted around her closed eyes, the green flush of her cheek and her pouting lips. When he decided she was finally dead to the world, he very quietly – so as not to disturb her – pushed his body off the bed.

Settling his eyes on her sleeping form, with the quietest voice he'd ever used – so hushed it almost wasn't heard – he whispered, "I love you, T'Pol. I always will."

Feeling a lump forming in his throat and emotion eating at his insides, he thought it best to make a swift retreat. He wasn't going to give into sentiment; it didn't become a man near 60 … no, it didn't become _him_. Silently, he walked out of her room and quarters, and went back to the Bridge.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of hazel eyes had spied everything – everything that was spoken and every action that took place. No one knew Lorian was home. Creeping back to his room, he reflected on the events and words said, including what happened to his father.

* * *

_  
Three months later. _

Lorian was an observant young man – few things escaped his notice.

Archer had taken him under his wing, as promised, teaching him what he needed to know to be a good captain. The man was congenial, friendly and still gave off the concern he always did. Their relationship for the most part hadn't changed; the man was as just as open (and just as closed) as he was before his mother ended the relationship with him.

And, his mother seemed pleased to live with her son and would give something akin to a glow after each session he had with the captain. Lorian would've called it pride, even if the Vulcan never would've concurred with that particular emotion. His relationship with his mother hadn't really changed either.

It was frequent interaction that enabled Lorian to see that neither Captain Archer nor his mother seemed particularly content. It was more than that ….

Little things emanated from each one – like when Lorian was on the Bridge performing a task, he'd observe the captain's eyes dancing over to his mother as she was lost in her work. It was the same look he'd given his mother before they were ever involved, but it held more yearning. When Archer was preoccupied with showing the young man a few techniques or imparting wisdom about the duties of captain, his mother would watch the captain with earnest – a ghost of a frown on her face and regret in her brown eyes.

He knew the two had stopped seeing each other almost immediately after the argument he and Archer had in the gym. And, he'd gathered the end of the relationship was delivered from his mother who'd come back from Archer's quarters that day heaped in unexpressed emotion – her eyes glassy.

So, even though it was finished between the two, they had carried on as if there were unspoken words, touches and feelings that each one longed to share again. They'd been doing so for months.

Lorian understood he was in the middle; that was his intent from the beginning -- he was a barrier between them getting together. He didn't particularly like it, but recognized that was his role. After all, he didn't want to be an Archer, and moving in might associate him with the captain, rather than his departed father.

What he hadn't expected was sadness to hang on his mother like a shroud; it was impossible to ignore. As he went to sleep every night, her dull eyes had locked on her son to say goodnight and then she threw herself into long meditations that he could tell produced little results. The woman poked at her food and gazed at her padd for extended periods of time (lost in thought). It had been torture – as if her life was slowly being sucked from her body and spilled out into the vacuum of space. Of course, no human would recognize these non-emotional outbursts, but he knew the changes in his mother's demeanor, subtle though they were, enough to know she wasn't happy.

He'd seen _happy _before. When his father had been alive … and they'd spar and pick at each other, they'd end it with finger touches or kisses. She'd been pleased when Lorian had reported for his first day of tutelage to learn more about the role of captain. And, she'd been content all these years to work diligently reviewing reports of nebulas, quasars, pulsars and other phenomena.

It was the same emotions he'd witnessed when she'd expected to see the captain. Discussing the ship, talking about the crew and their education, reading with Archer … doing things with him had made her happy. It had been evident by the spring in her step, the extra time she took deciding on her wardrobe or and the effort she placed in fixing her makeup.

Her joy had been long gone.

And because he'd seen the captain several hours a week for training, he'd deduced Archer had felt the same way. Lorian had to admit – it _was_ love.

Love.

When Lorian was growing up, he'd found it surprising that Vulcans had words for most emotions -- of course, the words were primitive and archaic – and yet, there was no word for love. It was as if the very nature of the idea had been expunged from their society – eliminated and cast out because it was unfit to be Vulcan. It didn't exist in any text or scroll, had no character or combination of them assigned to it and was never spoken of by anyone. The word itself was foreign, even the concept. Then again, they had no reason to understand it; Vulcan mates were chosen logically (by their parents) and parents ruled over children with flawless reason, never uttering the words to their offspring. Vulcans didn't miss it because they'd possibly never had it – even in the darkest times before Surak.

And yet, Lorian as a child had been perplexed that his mother, a Vulcan, felt it. That emotion had instigated a marriage; the wedding hadn't taken place because of Pon Farr. Although, Pon Farr sparked his existence, the peak of which enabled him to be conceived.

If she understood the emotion, why would she refrain from saying she felt it. She'd rarely spoken words of love, even though she must've known how much it meant to her husband and son.

_"Dad, why did Mother marry you?" _

_"Seemed like the logical thing to do at the time," Trip teased. _

_"Was it logical?" Lorian asked, seriously. _

_"Logical to me," he said. Seeing his son's raised eyebrow, he decided to address what he could only guess was the underlying issue. "If you really want to know the truth, I think she fell in love." _

_"Love is an emotion," the boy replied. "Mother never expresses emotion." _

_That wasn't necessarily true, but it was close to being true. Trip could pick up on the smallest of gestures and understand where it came from, but a near teen-age Vulcan boy, who sometimes wasn't sure of his own emotions, probably had more trouble. _

_"You feel love," Trip said. "I know you love me." _

_He did – as much as he understood the emotion. "But, I'm half-human." _

_"Your mother loves us." _

_"Mother hardly ever says she loves us." Lorian had heard the words three times; he kept track. _

_"Your mom loves you more than you'll ever know. The fact she tells us infrequently makes it all the more precious. Besides, don't you feel in your heart she loves you all the time?" _

_"Maybe." He'd have to think about that. _

_"When's the last time you told her you loved _her_?" Trip asked. _

_A frown worked over his face. Telling his mother he loved her was embarrassing and painful. It was far easier to tell his father, who welcomed the words with hugs and smiles, as if to encourage it. The one time he told his mother in recent memory his feelings, she awkwardly repeated the words and became silent. _

_"Maybe you should tell her more often then," Trip said. "Your actions, your words – everything you do is meaningful to her, kiddo. Just like her actions, her words – what she does is meaningful to you." _

_Lorian got quiet. _

_"Get to bed," Trip said with a wink and then walked out the door. _

_Sliding off his tunic and curling into his bed, he thought about his father's words. _

_The 12-year old boy stared at the ceiling and wondered what it would be like to be human – all human. There had been times when, for example, he'd wanted to laugh, but the feeling of restraining it took control of him – like he didn't want to let the feeling escape. Not having practiced snickering and giggling left his laugh awkward and clumsy, as if he didn't know how to work the muscles in his mouth or diaphragm. _

_It wasn't really happiness he sought. The emotion he wanted more than any others: love -- the feeling of being loved and the emotion of loving … and to really know that was the sensation that humans felt. The horrible thing about being Vulcan is that the species never really understood a particular sentiment. And, the sensation that accompanied a feeling wasn't what a human would describe it as. Many of them were more intense and twisted. Even now, lust felt less heavenly than the other boys in his classes discussed. It felt more tainted and wanton. Anger felt more like rage, or what he guessed rage was. Hurt felt more like stabs in his gut and chest, not the easy tender feeling that let water trickle from his eyes. _

_Sometimes love had all the feelings of happiness, lust, rage and hurt, and yet he was unsure if any of those were really love at all. The kind of love he had for his father felt like a constant tickling in his stomach that made him want to chuckle and have it ring through the rooms and halls of Enterprise. It was primarily hurt he felt for his mother, the kind that crushed the chest and lowered his eyes. _

Tonight after his weekly captain training session with Archer, he'd invite the man over for dinner. He couldn't deny letting his mother express the one emotion that he craved like no other: love. And maybe by doing so, she'd be able to discern her son loved her as well. At least, that was his hope.

He kept his pace to the Bridge and walked on to greet his teacher, Archer, and his mother.

* * *

­­­­­

Dinner was quiet – during it, T'Pol and Archer exchanged glances, hoping to catch the other's eyes, but never succeeding. Of course, Lorian had witnessed each hopeful gaze as if to solidify his resolve. It seemed waiting for the right moment wouldn't help, and possibly bluntness was the right course of action. After all, he'd waited patiently for almost an hour without feeling like the two were moving any closer to resolution.

"Mother, do you still wish to move in with Captain Archer?"

Jonathan's fork, clanked against his plate as hers hung in the air for only a few seconds before she could recover and permit her mouth to overtake it. When she was finished chewing she locked eyes with her son.

"We've already discussed this."

"I'd like to discuss it again."

Sensing he'd walked into something T'Pol didn't expect, Archer said, "Lorian, maybe this isn't the best time to …."

Perhaps the captain who was more willing to give into emotion would respond more favorably, Lorian thought.

"Captain, do you still wish her to live with you?"

"Yes," he said, without looking at the woman sitting across from him.

"And then what are your intentions?" asked Lorian.

Raising his eyebrows, Archer tried to answer the question. "My intentions? I love her, if that's what you're asking." His eyes wandered over to T'Pol whose own gleamed at the admission.

"Lorian, we've already discussed this," T'Pol said, as if to put an end to the conversation.

"Emotions, Mother, are difficult for Vulcans to express because they are difficult to understand. But, I believe you care about this man."

Near-exasperation covered her face. "Jonathan, I apologize, I had no idea Lorian would …."

"I'd be … willing to move in with you, Captain, if you can make my mother … content."

T'Pol's eyes found her son. "Lorian …."

"It's not shameful to admit, Mother. You told me as much several months ago. At the time, I believed your analysis to be incorrect, but I see now that you were right."

An eyebrow raised to him, confused about this course of action.

"You and Captain Archer … your lives have woven together for so many years. You were bound to fall in love, I suppose. I was wrong not to honor that, Mother." Before she could open her mouth, he added, "I know that word, love, may not be Vulcan … but after living with humans, I understand how important it is. And so do you. You and I are destined to seek it out. Being loved _feels_ good."

It was probably the first time mother and child understood each other. T'Pol had sought love ever since she'd lived among the humans. It was clear to her, this was Lorian's way of telling her he cared. He was showing it just as she had by ending the relationship with Jonathan. The gesture from her son was meaningful.

"You don't need to do this," T'Pol explained.

"No, I don't. But, the Archers aren't _that _bad." Something playful in his eyes shone to her and for a moment, she believed her late husband has said those words.

Jonathan let the joke go, leaning over on his elbows. "Are you sure you want to do this, Lorian?"

T'Pol's eyebrow twitched.

"I am …. My only request is – may I have my own room?"

Archer smiled, "I think that can be arranged."

* * *

­­­­­­­­

It had been about a month before the requisition to expand the Archers quarters had been filled. In the process, he'd displaced one crewmember, who'd happily taken T'Pol's more spacious quarters, and turned the lives of two families upside down. Moving had been more of an ordeal than he thought it would be, including squealing children, yipping old dogs and a flat feminine voice cutting through the usual commotion. The only issue the couple had was where to put the starfish like pattern from her previous quarters. Finally Archer had given in and with a dramatic flourish, agreed to move his water polo trophies.

The cabin itself had been built out for three rooms, two bathrooms and a small kitchen. Lorian and Henry had been pleased to get their own rooms – both cluttering them with personal items, and Elyssa was relegated to the fold out couch in the middle of the living room. Truthfully, she'd wanted to be where the action was anyway.

The first night the family spent in the new quarters seemed like fun to everyone. Elyssa enjoyed listening to Lorian and Henry talk through their walls to each other.

"Lorian, I'm glad you're staying with us," she heard Henry say.

"I am as well."

"Maybe tomorrow, you and I can take Dad's old remote control flyer for a spin. I've modified it to go faster."

"I'd like that."

"Maybe we can invite Toru," said Henry.

"You mean distract Elyssa with Yoshi?"

Henry laughed, "Yeah."

"Good idea," Lorian replied.

With a little pout, she decided to strain her ears and listen to the whispers that came from her father's bedroom.

"Do you think Lorian's settled?" Jon asked.

"I believe so. He spoke with enthusiasm about moving in. I think it's a good sign. And your children?"

"You kidding? I think Henry's happy to see a friend move in, and I think Elyssa is thrilled."

"What about you? Are you … 'settled'?" she asked, coyly.

"Definitely so. Feels pretty darned comfortable to me."

They were silent for a few minutes, and Elyssa imagined the two to be kissing.

"You know, T'Pol … I've had something for you for a while."

Elyssa heard the deck plating slapped by bare feet, a drawer open and then the creak of her father's bed.

"Open it," Archer said.

"Marriage?" she finally asked.

"Shouldn't be a surprise; I mean we've talked about it."

"Jonathan –"

"I'd like you to be my wife, T'Pol," he whispered. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

The little girl could hear muffled sounds, definitely kissing, and then their voices became quieter, forcing her to leave the comfort of her bed and tiptoe to the door. Crouching over carefully, she stuck her ear against the cold metal hoping not to alert anyone. As the tip of her ear planted itself against the door, it was interrupted from its mission.

"Goodnight, Elyssa," T'Pol said, then quietly explained to the man in bed next to her she could hear the child on the other side of the door.

_'Vulcan hearing!' thought the Elyssa, kicking at the deck plating on her way back to bed. When she'd agreed to take the couch, she hadn't anticipated T'Pol's excellent auditory skills. _

She wasn't completely let down, as she snuggled into the covers again, she heard T'Pol's voice filled with amusement.

"Why didn't you requisition a larger bed?" she asked.

He gave a purring laugh. "I would've thought that'd be easy to figure out."

Near silence rang out through the cabin, and blinking through the darkness, Elyssa wondered if her father and T'Pol had gone to sleep. She was satisfied to hear after an hour or so, the soft snore from her father she'd grown accustomed to.

Settling back, she enjoyed the thought that this was family. With that, she closed her eyes and smiled ruminating on the idea that T'Pol might tuck her into bed every night and her father would laugh more often.

A silent hope crossed her eager brain: maybe in the morning, her dad would let her jump on his bed and demand pancakes. And maybe he'd grab her and tickle her while reminding her she wasn't allowed to jump on the bed. It was their Saturday morning ritual, one she looked forward to. Perhaps this time, T'Pol would explain how jumping was bad for mattresses and that if she needed to exercise her energy, she should play with Yoshi. After the explanation, a hint of amusement would sparkle in her eyes and she would quietly admit she also liked pancakes, triggering her father to leave the bed after kissing T'Pol tenderly on the lips and Elyssa sweetly on the forehead. That wasn't part of the ritual, but Elyssa wished it would be.

She wasn't disappointed.

* * *

**Epilogue **

It astounded T'Pol that the man had lived so long – one hundred and ten was slightly beyond the norm, especially for a man who'd lived so hard. He'd stopped commanding Enterprise at roughly 80, which she'd argued was too old to captain a starship.

Their life together had been easy – only filled with occasional minor arguments between a wife and husband … or a captain and his first officer. Most of the moments between them had been joyous and loving.

Most of the crew had already perished. Malcolm had lived to be eighty-two. Hayes had lived until eighty. Even Phlox had died – his heart had eventually given in. The only two people who remained were Hoshi and Travis, and both were barely hanging on.

Lizel walked out of Archer's bedroom and shook her head slowly. "I think this is it."

A stinging sensation burned throughout the Vulcan's body. Fifty years with the man seemed like an instant and she begged, something she knew was beyond logic, for just a few more days with him.

"I suggest you call the children," Lizel said softly.

It was crushing – her limbs felt weak and her lips trembled. T'Pol made the calls, her voice quivering with uncertainty and wrought with emotion. With trepidation, she went to her husband's side.

"Hey," he said at the worried look on the Vulcan's face.

The Vulcan tried to hold back tears. It wasn't the trellium that was eventually eroding her remaining control; she was losing her best friend and bondmate.

Gently she stroked his white mane and the first child arrived with her two children. Elyssa, now tall with dark hair – looking so much like Archer – wandered up to her father's bed. The Ikarran was slightly beyond middle age, they didn't live as long as humans, and carried sadness in her eyes, face and demeanor.

"Lys," he whispered.

"Dad," she said, stooping to the side of his bed.

Her children stood behind her – all dark-skinned with ridges – consoling each other. Lys had married one of Mayweather kids and had given birth to a boy and a girl – Teresa and Robert.

Archer smiled. One of the roles he liked best was grandpa and looking on Elyssa's family made him proud of his daughter – maybe even more proud than her ace flying. Staring at her features, he saw her as a young girl around seven, who spoke with enthusiasm and glee.

He said, "Your mother named you Elyssa because according to Ikarran traditions, any child born without gray eyes speaks the word of God. When you were born, your eyes were blue instead of gray."

"I know. You've told me that before," she said, lightly kissing his forehead. Tears spilled out of her eyes and she looked over to T'Pol for strength. Having touched the woman hundreds of times before, she reached her hand around the Vulcan's and wasn't surprised when the grip was tightened.

Henry arrived next. His hair was light brown, and his eyes still shone gray. Slightly stooped, he leaned on his oldest and only child, Ken, to support him. Henry had married Yoshiko Hayes, joining the Hayes and the Archer lines together to produce another fine engineer, breaking Archer's theory about mechanical skills skipping generations. Henry, like his grandfather, was a top-notch engineer – one of the best.

"Dad," Henry said. The Ikarran leaned down and hugged his father, careful not to squeeze to hard. When the man came up, Archer saw his son cry.

"I don't know why everyone is sad. I've been around a good long while, a man can use a break now and again," Archer kidded.

"Dad," Elyssa said like an accusation, a laugh and a sob. Her fingers wiped at her eyes and under her nose as Henry drew his sister into a hug.

And then Lorian came. Strong, sturdy – he was stocky in build and confident. He'd grown into a fine young man … a brilliant first officer, a well-reasoned science officer and someone who knew a thing or two about Enterprise's engines. The crew admired him and his courage, having proved himself more than a few times and winning more than a few pats on the back from Archer, one of his mentors. Congratulations occasionally came from his other mentor, his mother. Those were always the most rewarding.

Secretly, or not so secretly, Archer wished the boy (he'd always be one to Archer) would marry and settle down, but Lorian quietly and with humor always advised that the captain is married to his ship. It was something he was adamant about, despite the pretty faces of many of the young women on Enterprise.

On seeing Lorian, Archer grew a little more serious, waving the man over. Lorian crouched down.

Archer said, "Don't let your mother be captain too long. You're ready for the job."

"Yes, sir," Lorian said.

"Please do three things for me. It's urgent …."

"I know the first one – destroy the Xindi weapon before it reaches Earth." It was all Archer talked about these days – as if it was his mission to live long enough to make that happen.

"Yes," Archer whispered. "You've got to promise to do that. If not, everything would've been in vain."

"I promise," Lorian whispered.

"Promise!" Archer said more strongly.

"Yes, I promise. I won't allow the weapon to harm Earth. What are your other requests?"

"Take care of Enterprise – the ship, the families on board, they'll all be looking to you. It's their home. It's your home."

"Always."

"Good."

"What's the third thing?" Lorian asked.

"Don't argue with your mother so much," he said with a smile.

Lorian gave a mild laugh and agreed. "I'll try."

As if sensing he was slipping away, T'Pol shook her head and sat on the edge of his bed. "Please, Jonathan. No."

Unable to muster the strength to take her hand or place his fingers along hers, he whispered what he hoped would be parting words; he hated goodbyes.

"I love you," he said. "I always have and I always will."

She whispered, "I love you, too."

Slowly, his breathing slowed, his heart began to wind down and his mind clouded. Death had finally caught up with him, and he was ready this time to let it win.

Sensing his thoughts, she whispered, "Don't go. I'm not ready for you to go." Tears streamed down her face; this wasn't the time to control her emotions.

"We've been together a long time, Aisha."

Her lips touched his cheek. "Not long enough," she pleaded.

"I'll see you again, T'Pol," he whispered and closed his eyes.

* * *

After Archer died, T'Pol spent the majority of her free time in her room reading and thinking. His last words to her were prophetic; Lorian was unable to intercept the weapon, so she'd be seeing Enterprise again. She'd be seeing Jonathan again. In fact, Karyn would be walking him to her cabin in a matter of minutes.

Years had given her time to understand the issue: would she encourage a younger version of herself to fall in love with Jonathan, letting her know how he'd felt all these years? Or, would she push her younger self toward Trip – who was also in love with her and soothed a passion in her. Maybe it was best not to tell a younger version of herself anything, but allow events to naturally occur … whatever those events may be.

Even though she'd had years to understand the complexities of the problem, she'd never really developed any solutions. When her mind would settle on a solution, another one sprang to mind. Possibly being married so long to Jonathan made her realize why humans did things impulsively – sometimes it was the rush to get the decision over with and hope that a better opportunity would eventually present itself.

From the discussions she had with Lorian, she knew the repercussions for him were possibly more taxing – if his parents indeed were romantically involved, would he be, in a way, born again? She'd heard him wonder aloud whether if the circumstances would never be duplicated so exactly to create him. They'd even discussed if she bore a child, Trip's child, and even if it was a boy named Lorian, that it wouldn't be the same. The odds of producing _Lorian _were astronomical: his genetics, his personality -- him. It was difficult for her to accept; she loved her son.

Talking with Lorian, she knew he wanted to see his parents reunited – almost with the naivety of a child … even if he wasn't recreated.

As she heard the steps outside her cabin, she gathered her logic around her … or as best she could for a woman her age.

Already nervous, T'Pol faced the window, watching the stars pass – the same ones they'd passed for more than 100 years. When his footsteps crossed the threshold, her nostrils twitched at the air – it smelled like him: woodsy, musky … more powerful than the faint trace that remained on his clothes that she kept.

She could feel his trepidation and curiosity as he entered, which is what bade her speak.

"Hello, Jonathan."

"T'Pol."

She could hear the surprise in his voice – the recognition. By his voice, she knew she'd made the right choice. Instead of being bothered by seeing an older version of his friend, a woman he'd been in love with, T'Pol took note he was thrilled and touched that he would be the first person she'd want to see.

Turning, she was stunned by how handsome he was. It seemed like forever ago when his hair was dark, rather than littered or completely covered in gray or white, and his skin sported fewer wrinkles. His green eyes were confident and demanding – as if he hadn't let the Expanse defeat him yet … certainly not the way he looked after being caught in the past.

Waiting, he watched for a cue – something that meant it was okay for him to move closer. And she observed his astonishment when she waved him over to her and reached her hands lightly around his arms in as close to a hug as she risked with her former husband.

"It's good to see you," she said.

Even as he relaxed and returned the gesture, smiling at her, she could tell things weren't the same.

"Living with humans for so long has changed you," he said in the voice he'd always reserved only for her.

Wanting to sigh, she found it ironic it wasn't living necessarily with humans, but living with particularly him and Trip that changed her. As she tried to withdraw, he held her steadfast.

"They didn't tell me you were still aboard."

"Ah. You mean still alive," she said, as if to joke. Amusement flickered in his eyes as well as admiration. His hand continued to wrap around her arm, and despite her age and his youth, he looked on in awe.

Retrieving her arm, she turned away from him. "You look well."

Hoping to stop his stare and make conversation, she asked, "How's Trip?"

"He's fine," he replied, snapping out of it. "If you like, I'll have him come by and say hello."

"That might be awkward," she responded. Trip would never be as accepting – his emotionality would cause confusion for him and for her. The T'Pol that loved Trip – the one who had desire for him – was someone else. _This_ T'Pol could only really remember Jonathan, and because of age didn't desire really anyone.

Besides, it was imperative she speak with Jonathan about the ship and the vortex; she needed to tell him that Lorian's commitment to the crew and command was too strong. He wasn't able to look at the situation as objectively or logically as she … especially after seeing both his father and Archer, which she gathered cause wounds to reform – emotional scars she already thought had healed.

"There's so much I want to ask you," he said, earnestly. "I don't know where to start."

With defeat, she said, "I wish we had time to get reacquainted. You must give this to your science officer. She'll know what it means."

Confusion and disappointment contorted his features as he looked at the data. She gazed at him while the events of her life charged into memory – her quiet and very private marriage to Archer performed by Phlox where only their children attended, the feel of his lips on hers, the minor arguments they had as man and wife and captain and first officer, and watching his eyes close for eternity as she hovered over his lifeless body – causing her to for the second time in her life to weep uncontrollably.

Risking a few more words she said ….

"I know you're in love with her. It's written all over your face." It was ironic that she was mentioning what Esilia said to Jonathan decades ago, but it seemed appropriate.

He wasn't exactly sure who _her_ was and thought _'Enterprise?'_

Their eyes locked and he realized she knew about his feelings for T'Pol, the T'Pol from _his _time. The words sunk in, but they didn't make any sense. Lorian wasn't his child – he was Trip's … not that _that _made any sense either. Swallowing deeply, his eyes fell on the floor and his mind turned over the information.

"She loves you, too."

He glanced up. "I don't understand," he said.

"But, her time with you hasn't come, yet. Be patient, Jonathan. I know it's not in your nature, but try anyway."

It made sense to encourage a younger T'Pol to be with Trip; the engineer didn't have long to live and though the chance was remote – she might have Lorian. In the end _that _was the only logical decision she could come to, as much as it pained her. What's more, T'Pol had decided, quite illogically, that certain things were meant to be – the universe continued to throw her and Jonathan together; it was obvious the soul mates would be reunited.

His trademark furrow, the one she hadn't seen in years sprung onto his face, and for a moment she wanted to laugh. Yes, she knew him – she could even guess what he was thinking … after all their minds had been linked together for nearly fifty years. The inner-dialogue that chatted along his neural pathways was almost second nature to her.

"I didn't say it would be easy. I said, 'try,'" she clarified.

More marked confusion spread over his face and she guessed his mind was racing.

"But, you and Trip?" he asked. Actually, it wasn't really a question just a way for his brain to process the events.

"Yes."

"And me?"

"Eventually," she said.

She saw the wheels spinning in his head, attempting to work out the details of their lives, probably making up a story of what happened for the more than 100 years she was on Enterprise. What the story was, she couldn't tell, but she knew he realized at one point in her life she'd loved him, and that seemed to make a difference. Before she could do anything foolish, like hold out two fingers as she would more than 50 years ago, she turned away. She wasn't surprised to hear his paused footsteps behind her, wanting to say more or do more; and she wasn't startled when he spoke quietly to her back.

"I can't get involved in a relationship with T'Pol," he said, even though he had to admit to himself that loved his first officer. "The circumstances, this time, are different."

The man would never change – stubborn.

"The circumstances may change, but the feelings won't … and you won't always command a ship."

Without wanting to think more about it, he thanked her for the information, spoke warmly about seeing her and left, dedicated to the task at hand. As he walked away, it was important he forget what he heard; it was dangerous enough that he felt jealous of Trip. Captains weren't meant to fall in love with those they command; it seemed like a rule somewhere.

As he left, she almost felt sorry for the T'Pol of the present time. She needed to hear how she was loved and adored by a human; Trip was more likely to say it and thus it made sense she would need to go to him for love. She knew Jonathan would feel the same, but wouldn't be willing to say it, hiding behind the mantle of captain and commander.

Sighing, she knew the man. He would do his best to deny it, disregarding the words she'd carefully crafted and painstakingly said, but the idea would germinate one day. She was certain. It was only a matter of time.

The End.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This last part was especially soap-operatic and possibly tissue needing (either because it was so bad or watching people die got ya). I apologize for any trespass you believe I committed to a character or the tale. Thanks for letting me play around with them a bit.

Special thanks to Mana and Monica who reviewed much of the story. And thanks to those who encouraged me to finish -- more people than I really anticipated. :)


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